Lost in the Hum of Night
by ann no aku
Summary: Luke Smith is missing, abducted by aliens for an unknown purpose. Across time and space, the empress of J'Pynollw is missing, and the Doctor must find her or Martha will suffer a terrible fate. It is a race to find those lost and uncover the mystery.
1. The Echo of Truth

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot:** Luke Smith is selected as a candidate for an elite school. All seems well until he doesn't return home one day. Sarah Jane, frantic with the loss of her son, calls on her last hope for help—Torchwood. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes:** Takes place after the SJA episode _The Lost Boy_ (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes _Family of Blood_ and _Blink_ (Series III).

*********

**Chapter One: **The Echo of Truth

Luke Smith stared blankly at the whiteboard, finding the lesson beyond bordering insulting his intelligence and blatantly beating it to a pulp. His head throbbed and he did everything in his power to remain alert and attentive despite the Battle of Boredom waging in his body far stronger (and more painful) than being electrocuted by a Dalek (he had heard about them from his mum after finding a picture of in the attic and had immediately bombarded her with questions). He nearly fell out of his seat as the professor interrupted his internal chant of the Period Table and its properties.

"S-Sorry, Professor," he stammered, ignoring Clyde sniggering next to him.

"What are you apologizing for, Mr. Smith?" asked Professor Gaines, smiling behind his bushy beard. "I was merely informing the class that you have been selected as a candidate for Chelsea Hall."

The silence in the room thundered in Luke's ears. "Chelsea Hall?" he echoed, unfamiliar with the name.

"Ha ha, good joke!" Clyde smacked his friend on the shoulder. "Don' worry, Sir, my mate Luke here is all excited 'bout goin' to Chelsea Hall."

"I never said he was accepted, Mr. Langer. It is a very competitive, highly elite university prepatory school." He eyed the boys curiously for a moment, choosing not to notice the confusion on Luke's face or the hasty whispers Clyde was giving him.

"Yeah, I know, Sir. My mum keeps tellin' me that if I even get selected by mistake, she'll never make me clean my room again!" The class rippled with laughter.

"Yes, it would have to be a mistake for Chelsea Hall to even consider you, Mr. Langer." Professor Gaines's beard twitched as he tried to conceal his own amusement; the students laughed harder than ever.

The bell rang, signaling the end of English, and the students pushed past each other out the door. "Mr. Smith, a word, please."

"I'll wait for ya, mate," Clyde offered, grabbing his books and shooting his best friend a sympathetic look.

"I-I'm sorry, Professor, I was listening to your lecture," he lied, gulping nervously.

"What are you mumbling about?" His blue eyes crinkled as he smiled. He removed his glasses and gestured to Luke to take a seat. "I know you weren't paying attention, Mr. Smith. And, to be quite frank, I don't really care. Provided, however," he hastily added, adjusting himself in his stiff chair that was a bit too small for his large frame. "Provided you continue to do well and not disrupt my class."

"I don't disrupt any class, Sir," Luke informed, still ill at ease despite his professor's teasing grin. "Ever."

"Yes, I am aware of that." He fumbled through his desk drawers and pulled out a thick envelope made of a fine parchment. On the front, handwritten in a fancy script was Luke's name above the name and address of his school. "I never thought I'd see one of these again in my lifetime, Mr. Smith. It makes me proud to be your English professor, even though you're bored."

"I-I'm not-"

Professor Gaines carried on as though uninterrupted, waving the envelope in front of him. "Before I give this to you, you need to understand what this means. Whatever you may have heard of Chelsea Hall, it doesn't matter. I'm telling you this, Mr. Smith, so that you will make the right decision and for the right reasons."

*****

"Chelsea Hall?" Maria repeated, covering her mouth so she wouldn't laugh. "I can't believe it!"

"Is that bad?" asked Luke, shifting his schoolbag over his shoulder.

"Only if you can't afford to go," Clyde answered. "Not only are they like super elite, but they're well expensive, too!" Bitterly, he kicked at a rock in front of him, watching as it rolled down the sidewalk of Bannerman Road. "I heard Bill Gates couldn't even get his own child in, and he's like the richest guy in the world!"

"Are you jealous?" Maria teased, stopping in front of Luke's house.

"No! 'm not jealous! It's jus' . .well . . Luke's really smart an' all, an' we right these aliens, an' what if Chelsea Hall is some alien front or somethin', yeah? Like with the Kudlak?"

"Clyde! Chelsea Hall is hardly ever in the news; you only even hear 'bout them from word of mouth. If it were _really_ run by aliens, don't you think we'd have heard 'bout weird experiments or children missing?"

"Yeah," Luke agreed, looking to Clyde. "Like with Combat 3000 and the Pharos Institute."

"I said that! Besides, you've never even heard of Chelsea Hall-!"

"Chelsea Hall?" Sarah Jane's voice made them jump. "What about it?" She had appeared from nowhere, the day's post in her hands.

"I've been chosen for an interview," Luke answered, unsure whether to feel excited or nervous at the thought. He pulled the envelope Professor Gaines had given him out of his pocket, smoothing it as he handed it to his mother.

"Really?" Ms. Smith raised her eyebrows, and then broke into a huge smile. She squeezed her son. "Oh, congratulations, Luke! I'm so proud of you!"

"It's only an interview mum," he mumbled against her bosom.

"But isn't a bit weird?" Clyde persisted, shooting uncertain looks to his friends.

"Why would it be weird? He's my son and the smartest boy on the planet." She had finally released Luke, whom was blushing a deep red.

"Clyde's jealous," explained Maria in a hushed whisper, avoiding Clyde's glare. She caught her father peeking out the window and waved him over.

"'m not jealous! It's jus' that things always happen to you—the Slitheen! Twice!"

"You're right, Clyde. What if it is some sort of trick or something, mum?" Luke swallowed hard, the memory of being taken away all too fresh in his mind.

"Oh, well! If you're all so worried-!"

"Just Clyde," Maria interrupted, patting her neighbor on the arm.

"-then we will just have to take a visit to Chelsea Hall. Luke," Sarah Jane added as an afterthought. "Knowing their reputation, I doubt they'd allow non-prospective students in."

"Planning another adventure, are we?" Alan inquired, joining their circle after jogging over to them.

"Yes, a field trip. To Chelsea Hall."

"That's some field trip, Sarah Jane." His eyebrows disappeared into his forehead. "What is it this time—elite school taken over by genius-kidnapping aliens?"

"Exactly!" Clyde quickly shouted, pleased to see that someone else could see the potential danger.

"No, Luke has an interview." She beamed again. "My son has been selected by Chelsea Hall."


	2. Butterflies

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot:** Luke Smith is selected as a candidate for an elite school. All seems well until he doesn't return home one day. Sarah Jane, frantic with the loss of her son, calls on her last hope for help—Torchwood. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes:** Takes place after the SJA episode _The Lost Boy_ (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes _Family of Blood_ and _Blink_ (Series III).

*********

**Chapter Two: **Butterflies

Luke woke early Saturday morning with a feeling in his stomach he had never felt before. He lifted up his t-shirt, half expecting some fluttering creature to poke out of his abdomen. He realized, with slight shock, that he was nervous. Did he want to attend Chelsea hall? What about Maria and Clyde? He'd be all alone, not knowing anyone at the school. _At least_, he thought with an inkling of hope,_ that I live close enough so I wouldn't have to live there. I think._ He swallowed, the funny sensation in his tummy returning.

"Are you up, Luke?" his mother called from the other side of his door.

"Yes," he tried to reply, but all that came out was a sickly grunt. It was only an interview, so why was he so scared?

"May I come in?" she asked, taking his sharp intake of breath as another yes. "Oh, Luke! Are you alright?"

He nodded, making sure his mouth was closed so he wouldn't vomit.

"You're . .green! You could put a Slitheen to shame!" His mother advanced towards him, immediately placing a hand on his clammy forehead.

"My stomach feels weird, like there's something flying around inside," he admitted with some reluctance.

"Butterflies," she said grinning. "You're nervous. You shouldn't be, Luke. There's no way they won't accept you! Now hurry up and get ready. I've got breakfast on the table." She smoothed her son's damp hair. "I'm so proud of you, Luke."

He watched as she left, his knees buckling and sending him into his desk chair. That's what he feared—being accepted. Truth was, he wasn't sure if he wanted it. Yes, school was a bit of a bore and that Chelsea Hall was the offer of a lifetime, but what if Clyde was right? Or, would he make new friends? He had just started to feel normal, and now some posh school (as Mr. Jackson had said) singled him out, putting him back in the spotlight where he didn't want to be. If Luke were anyone else, he'd probably say that he had Harry Potter's luck.

*****

The drive to Chelsea Hall was a short forty-five minutes, not nearly long enough to allow Luke the courage to swallow his tongue on 'accident'. He hadn't been scared facing the Slitheen, nor being on a spaceship miles above Earth (Luke supposed that was because he was a bit alien himself), but he had been scared without Sarah Jane, without his mum. And he was scared now at the prospect of being alone at a school—without Clyde and Maria. Maria had been the first friend he had ever made.

Despite his fears, Luke couldn't bring himself to tell his mum. She was so proud of him, and he didn't want to let her down. No one had asked what he wanted; they had just assumed he'd want to attend Chelsea Hall because he was smart. And yet, he did; he couldn't deny that. He wanted to be challenged and learn more. The real question was, which did he want more?

With slight trepidation, Luke exited the car and started at the ornately designed brick building. It wasn't very large, but since so few students attended at any given time, it needn't have been. No more than one hundred could be enrolled per year, and each was hand picked form all over the world. Nearly one-third of the students represented Asia (particularly China, Korea, and Japan), whereas the rest mostly from Europe and North America.

Together, they walked to the reception where a red-haired woman sat behind the desk rifling through stacks of confidential folders, oblivious to her guests. Ms. Smith cleared her throat, causing the woman to start.

"Good morning," the woman greeted, smiling. "Welcome to Chelsea Hall. Are you here for an interview?"

"Yes. I'm Sarah Jane Smith, and this is my son Luke. We have an appointment with Dr. Bryson at ten."

"Right, Dr. Bryson," the receptionist repeated, haphazardly shoving all the folders to the floor. She perused the computer, tapping away quickly. "He's in a meeting right now. One of the students didn't score a perfect on her last test and may be put on probation," she explained uselessly. "Please, sit. He'll be with you in a moment." She gestured to the luxurious couch opposite her desk and ducked back to the pile of files.

"Some secretary," Ms. Smith mumbled. "I'd have expected more from Chelsea Hall."

They only had to wait ten minutes before an oddly handsome man entered the reception area, sporting a very fine tailored suit of a deep blue. Luke couldn't decide if the man was good-looking or disturbing, he gave off both feelings.

"Good morning, Ms. Smith," he greeted, his voice as rich and smooth as his attire. "I'm Dr. Bryson. It is a pleasure to meet you." He shook her hand; his skin was softer than anything she had ever felt. Dr. Bryson's pale green eyes found Luke, whom was obsessively straightening his tie, and broke into a large grin that revealed such perfect white teeth that they could only ogle at him. "Ah, and Luke, your prodigal son. What an honor it is," and he bowed deeply to him. Luke half-bowed in return, unsure what to do next. "Come, let us discuss in my office." Dr. Bryson gestured to let them pass, and then turned to the secretary. "Ms. Noble, some tea, please."

The three of them sat around a coffee table that the secretary soon laded with a silver tray of tea and scones. Luke sat next to his mother on a couch across from Dr. Bryson's matching armchair. Almost immediately, he broke into business, yet never once sounding pompous.

"I'm very surprised we haven't heard of you earlier, Luke. With marks like yours, you are exactly what Chelsea Hall needs. There is no point in a long and drawn out interview, Ms. Smith, when we both know that Luke is an ideal prospect, and I don't say that very often." He beamed again, momentarily dazzling his guests.

"Well, it's up to Luke," Ms. Smith managed to say after a second's hesitation. She looked to her son, silently urging him to speak.

"I-I don't want," he began, swallowing thickly at the flicker in Dr. Bryson's eyes. "I-I mean, I want to live at home."

Much to Luke's relief, the headmaster chuckled, the deep sound reverberating off the walls and high ceiling. "Of course not, Luke, not if you'd prefer to live at home." He sipped his tea daintily, his eerily pale eyes never leaving the boy's face. "Chelsea Hall is elite and selective, yes, but not unsympathetic to the needs of our youth. We pride ourselves on having the best, Luke, and will do almost anything to keep the best. Do you have any other concerns?"

He couldn't believe it—he could commute to Chelsea Hall? He wouldn't have to quit being friends with Maria and Clyde after all. "No."

"Fantastic," the headmaster again focused on Ms. Smith. "Now, let us discuss your payment methods."


	3. Disappearances and Other Deceits

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot:** Luke Smith is selected as a candidate for an elite school. All seems well until he doesn't return home one day. Sarah Jane, frantic with the loss of her son, calls on her last hope for help—Torchwood. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes:** Takes place after the SJA episode _The Lost Boy_ (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes _Family of Blood_ and _Blink_ (Series III).

*********

**Chapter Three: **Disappearances and Other Deceits

It had been a week since Luke started at Chelsea Hall, replacing the girl whom had only made a 97 on her last test. While the assignments were hard and classes demanding, he enjoyed learning. He hadn't made any new friends yet; everyone was too focused on studying and being smart. He had been surprised when the school had a guest speaker—a Mr. Luke Rattigan, founder of the Rattigan Academy and creator of ATMOS.

As a result of his exponentially increasing workload, Luke found that he had less and less time to ever see Clyde and Maria, despite Maria only living across the street from him. Sarah Jane nearly voiced her concern about this once or twice, but, like most mothers, believed that her son had made the right choice by choosing an opportunity too good to pass up over a real life. After all, she had done the same thing by traveling with the Doctor.

Therefore, it wasn't too worrying when, by eight o'clock on the Friday after Luke started, that he hadn't returned home. It wasn't until an hour later that Sarah Jane began to worry.

*********

The Doctor fumbled with the controls of the TARDIS, smacking one with a mallet a couple of times. "Come on!" he groaned.

"Maybe it needs a woman's touch," Martha teased, watching in amusement as the Doctor struggled with his ship.

"Yeah," he agreed half-heartedly. "Now, if only we had one on board."

"Oi!"

"What?" he asked innocently, rubbing where Martha had just slapped him. "Oh! Right! Sorry 'bout that. Must have heard you wrong." Contorting his face into what he clearly thought was an apologetic expression, the Doctor stuck a finger in his ear, swirling it about as if to clean it.

"I'll say."

"No, no no no no! Really!" Furiously, he racked his brain for what he could have mistaken Martha's suggestion for. Truthfully, the Doctor hadn't been listening to her, although he didn't have the moxie to admit that to her. He had been too occupied with memories of the Family of Blood. "Really," he added again, shoving his glasses into his pocket.

"Alright then," she said, leaning against the console and folding her arms over her chest. She wore a very cross expression, one that could almost rival Jackie Tyler's. Almost. "If you're so sorry and so sure you misunderstood me-"

"I am!"

"-then I want a holiday. Take me somewhere where there aren't Daleks turning people into pig slaves, where alien-sun-beings aren't killing each other, or-or hiding from life-force sucking body snatchers." She eyed him sternly. "We both could use a holiday, Doctor. Don't think I haven't noticed your mopin' about."

"Moping?" he echoed incredulously. "I don't mope! What do I even have to mope about? I am an avid _non-_moper! As a matter of fact, Martha Jones, I have been accused of being cold because I _don't_ mope! Me! Mope!"

Martha smiled, sensing she touched a nerve. "Then holiday it is, then, and you can prove you aren't a mope by enjoying yourself."

"Honestly! It's like you're calling me 'Moping Myrtle'!" His fingers spun wildly over the controls, and Martha had to resist the urge to correct him. _Moping Myrtle_, she thought with an inward grin_._

Ever since they had taken care of the Family, it was as though the Doctor was punishing himself. Perhaps it was because he had hurt Matron Joan Redfern, or because he had eternally imprisoned innocent humans whom had been taken over by the Family. _Or maybe both_, she had thought. Martha was glad that she wasn't the one who had to choose the fate of hostile aliens. As an aspiring doctor, how could she take a life, even if it was threatening and dangerous?

She hoped the holiday would get his mind off everything and finally be able to relax. Plus, truth be told, after working as a maid for two months, a nice holiday on a beach planet was exactly what this med-student needed.

"So, where to, Martha Jones? Gysporrah—a lone planet that revolves around three suns and smells of sea salt ice cream? Rugashla VII—a world with billion year old fires burning beneath the crust, making the planet like a giant sauna? Or, a personal favorite of mine, J'Pynollw—home of the most hospitable race (save the Ood), and with beaches that make the Caribbean look like a dump?"

"You go to the beach?" she laughed, imagining the Doctor strolling an alien shore in his suit minus the socks and trainers, then uncovering some age old mystery or plot to take over the universe. _Or,_ she continued to muse,_ running away from crabs and claiming that they are the local flesh-eating rodents._

"No!" He looked positively insulted at the idea. "The J'Pynollwians grow the biggest and best bananas in this universe." The Doctor hadn't been to a beach since Dalig ulv Stranden, and he felt a little apprehensive about going. But Martha was right, they did need a holiday.

Although, traveling with the Doctor, there never could be a holiday with the entire universe plotting and planning.

*********

"Mrs. Smith," Doctor Bryson began, cutting her off.

"Ms. Smith," she instantly corrected out of force of habit, her hand clutching the phone as if it were her lifeline.

"Ms. Smith," he said, his voice as rich and smooth as ever, "Luke had left over three hours ago. I have his signature and time on the sign-out sheet. I give you my word, Ms. Smith, that I will help you as much as I can, but this is as much out of my hands as it is yours. Have you tried phoning the police?"

"Yes," she answered, her own voice sounding alien to her. "But it is too soon for them to do anything about it." Silent tears streamed down her face, and Sarah Jane did nothing to hold them back. Her son was missing, his cell phone going to straight to voicemail as if the battery had died or he was out of service. She blamed herself for allowing Luke to travel by himself, worried for his safety.

"Phone them again in the morning, Ms. Smith. In the meantime, I suggest that you have a strong cup of tea and wait. He may come home, yet. Good night." And with that, Dr. Bryson hung up, leaving Sarah Jane to her misery and loss.

"What did Dr. Bryson say?" Mr. Jackson inquired, returning to his neighbor's living room with two mugs of steaming tea. One of them smelled strongly of brandy.

"Clyde had said something like this would happen!" Maria exclaimed, nearly knocking the mug her father offered to her out of his hands. "Thanks."

"No one could have known," her father said, turning his attention back to Sarah Jane.

"I should have known. He is special, smart. Any alien could see that, any human." Embarrassed, she clumsily wiped the tears from her face and took a large gulp of her scalding hot tea. The pain distracted her.

"No, you shouldn't have," Alan corrected her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Chelsea Hall is hardly in the news at all; nothing peculiar or strange goes on there. His disappearance probably has nothing to do with the school."

"But it does! I know it does!" And she sobbed into her drink, wishing with all her hear that the Doctor would come and help her find Luke.

"Is there anyone else you can phone and ask for help? Someone you can trust?"

Alan's question snapped Sarah Jane back to reality, and she realized, with a large swallow of pride, that there was one organization she could ask for to help her. "Yes," she answered with a quiet hiccough.

"But will they help, though?" Maria inquired, placing her mug back down on the table. "I mean, he's only been missing for a few hours. If the police won't help, why would anyone else?"

"Because," Sarah Jane continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "they aren't the police."

*********

Captain Jack Harkness looked up as Ianto entered his office, carrying a tray laden with mugs and biscuits. "Thought I'd give you yours first, Jack. Although, Owen does get real pissy when his coffee gets cold."

"Drinking cold coffee isn't going to kill him, Ianto. He'll get over it." He sipped his drink, eyeing his tea boy with great interest.

"I also have a message for you, Jack. While you were out chasing down those escaped Weevils," Ianto gave an involuntary shudder, "a reporter rang for you."

"Reporter?" he echoed. "Why would a reporter be calling me? Unless . . ."

"Yes?"

"Man or woman?"

"Does it matter?" Ianto demanded, a bit more possessively than he had intended. He folded as his boss glared at him. "Woman."

"Female reporter?" Jack rubbed his chin, racking his brain for his last encounter with a female reporter.

"Goes by the name Sarah Jane Smith," Ianto continued, ignoring Jack's trip down memory lane. "She said it was very important, and I assured her that you'd phone her back immediately, although you don't have to, of course. I wonder when reporters started to get interested in Torchwood, or how they got our number."

Jack stood up quickly in his seat, knocking the chair backwards to the floor. "Sarah Jane Smith? Are you sure?"


	4. Compromises

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot:** Luke Smith is missing, abducted by aliens for an unknown purpose. Across time and space, the empress of J'Pynollw is missing, and the Doctor must find her or Martha will suffer a terrible fate. It is a race to find those lost and uncover the mystery behind the stolen children, bringing everyone together. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes:** Takes place after the SJA episode _The Lost Boy_ (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes _Family of Blood_ and _Blink_ (Series III).

**Edit:** I realized I had a continuity error. How can this story take place during Season 2 of Torchwood (after Jack met the Doctor again in Utopia, Series III) when in Doctor Who it is _before_ that episode? So I made some changes!

*********

**Chapter Four: **Compromises

Jack had believed that Sarah Jane needed his help for something less . . .domestic. Her son was missing, yes, but that didn't necessarily mean aliens were involved (even though he knew for sure that they were). He could not risk breaking up his team.

Therefore, after his polite refusal to help Sarah Jane (Torchwood wasn't a missing persons facility, after all), it came as no surprise that the next morning Gwen barged into his office looking angrier than he had ever seen her. He noticed, with an inward smile, that she didn't even bother with polite pleasantries. It reminded him why he had hired her.

"Good morning, Gwen," he began, motioning for her to sit down.

"Don't give me that, Jack," she snarled, still standing and with her arms firmly folded over her chest. "Why?"

"I take it that Ianto spoke-"

"Yes! As a matter of fact, he did. A child is missing, Jack-!"

"Not by the Rift, Gwen," he interrupted, leaning back in his chair. He thought of the center he had created for people stolen and returned from the Rift. "I checked. There have been no spikes in Rift energy in the past twenty-four hours. His disappearance has nothing to do with us."

"She asked for your help, and you just turned her away!" Shaking with fury, Gwen threw herself into the chair across from him, bending towards him as if ready to plead. "You have a common friend—th-this _doctor_. Isn't that reason enough?"

Captain Harkness considered her carefully for a moment, wondering how she knew so much about the Doctor. "There are things you don't know-"

"Then tell me, Jack! Let me go find her son; it's what I do. If aliens are involved, I can help."

"That's the thing, Gwen. Sarah Jane knows what to do, too. She has spent half her life battling aliens—her son was _made_ by them. She had traveled with the Doctor for three years. If she needs help, if she's asking _us_, then it's because no one else can."

"All the more reason," Gwen said, undeterred despite the statement about the boy being created by aliens. "This is what we do, Jack. We should at least confirm her theory-"

"I already did." Jack took a folder from a stack on his desk and handed it to his employee. "At about seven forty-two last night, there was a powerful energy beam directed towards Earth—one quarter from Chelsea Hall, to be exact. Gwen," he stared at her intently, "Luke Smith is not on Earth. There is nothing we can do.

*********

Martha Jones, clad in some summer wear she had found in the enormous wardrobe of the TARDIS, exited the ship with a large smile. The Doctor had picked J'Pynollw in the end, stating he had a craving for bananas. Adjusting the large straw hat on her head, Martha looked around the tropical planet, her face faltering and instantly turning into a frown.

"Come on, Ms. Jones!" shouted the Doctor from behind her, tugging what sounded like an inflatable inner tube or raft. Plastic rubbed noisily against the doors of the ship. "What are you standing around for? Go get your feet wet, tan that lovely blackamoor skin Shakespeare had said-" he stopped cold, bumping into his companion. "Well, this is odd."

"Did you even get the coordinates right?" she asked, taking in how derelict and abandoned the city was.

"What? Of course I did!" he exclaimed, hurt. "It's under my favorites—right beneath Earth, actually." The Doctor, also dressed in beachwear complete with sunglasses, pulled his sonic screwdriver out the pocket of his TARDIS blue swimming trunks. His pale skin blended in with his white t-shirt. He scanned the area. "This _is_ J'Pynollw. But what happened to it?"

"Maybe something happened since the last time you've been here," Martha wisely suggested dejectedly. She had been hoping to sip some exotic, alien banana daiquiri while enjoying one of the two sunsets.

"No, no. I was last here in the future," he replied. "They hold an intergalactic food competition every twenty two years or so, and I'm a judge." The Doctor ruffled his hair. "We need to find out what happened here, Martha, or no more bananas."

"Glad to see you have your priorities straight," she mumbled.

As they both turned around to re-enter the ship for a change of clothes (and to put away, what Martha saw was, an inflatable seahorse she later learned was named Arthur), no less than a dozen needles whizzed silently though the air, stabbing them each in the base of their spines. With a heavy thud, they collapsed in heaps on the hot sand.

Hours later, Martha awoke to find the Doctor happily eating a banana, despite being locked in a cell and having just been shot with painful tranquilizers. She gaped at him, ready to round on him in a fury. Yet, she discovered, with much disappointment, her body was lethargic in both the effects of the drug and extreme pain.

Unhelpfully, the Doctor passed her one of the fruits. "Eat this, it counteracts the poison."

"Thanks," she gasped. Much to her surprise, it instantly took effect and she could sit up in the cramped, dingy hold. "Some holiday."

"Nah, I've had worse. Although, saying that, it surely wasn't from a race boasted to be the most hospitable in the universe. Still," he carried on through a mouthful of food, "they _did_ give us bananas."

"Only so you will speak, Doctor," a voice squeaked from the shadows. Somewhere in the dark, a light flickered, illuminating the underground prison.

The Doctor recognized the rotund, pink-skinned alien at once. "Ah, Emperor!" he greeted, and then suddenly looked sheepish. "You're looking . . good. A bit less blue then I remember-"

"Silence!" he boomed, his high pitched voice ringing in the catacombs. "You have come here without invitation! This planet is under quarantine."

Martha blanched, staring sickly at the pale yellow skin of her meal on the floor. "'Quarantine'?" she echoed shakily. "As in, some infectious disease or -?"

"Nonsense, Martha," the Doctor cut her off, waving impatiently. "The TARDIS translated it wrong—the planet is just closed off, like lock down, martial law, and all that."

"Like that's any better."

"Emperor, why is J'Pynollw closed off? What happened?" He had gotten to his feet, hunched over from the low ceiling.

The large-bellied creature studied his guests for a moment, and then exhaled deeply. A sour smell filled their cell, making both nauseas. "J'Pynollw will no longer play host to any visitors, any of its own people, until my daughter is found."

"The empress is missing?" he asked, surprised. "But why would anyone want to kidnap your daughter? No offense, but you lot aren't all that special."

The emperor hissed, expelling more of his sour breath. "She is unlike most J'Pynollwians. She has knowledge outside our world—born when the suns were as one."

Martha looked to the Doctor for an explanation, but gave it up as a bad job when he didn't offer one.

"She was taken for her knowledge?" he inquired, clarifying. He ruffled his hair and paced in the small quarters, but really looking as though he was just turning in circles. In a blur, the Doctor spun around to face their captor. "I can find her, Emperor. Martha and I can locate your daughter, return her home, and-and have a feast!" He yelled the last part louder than he had intended, frightening the emperor. "Please, Emperor, let us help you."

He nodded grimly, then pointed to Martha. "Your friend will stay, Doctor. Consider it incentive," he sneered, revealing his brilliantly sharp teeth. The Doctor had never noticed it before, but when the J'Pynollwians were angry (in which they almost _never_ were, according to history), they didn't look very hospitable. As a matter of fact, they looked downright terrifying. He supposed that was why the emperor's skin was pink and his breath unnaturally sour.

"What?!" screeched Martha, standing up quickly and hitting her head. "'m not staying here! Not in this cell! I'm going with you, Doctor!"

"Don't worry," the alien smirked, turning a pale lilac. "As a friend of the Doctor, your imprisonment will be very enjoyable."

*********

The cops left Ms. Smith's house in silence, unable to promise her anything since they had nowhere to even begin looking for Luke. She shut the door behind them with a tight snap, allowing the tears to leak down her face. As she stood there, learning heavily on the door, a sharp rap sounded behind her, forcing her to start. Sarah Jane hastily wiped her cheeks and did her best to compose herself before greeting her unexpected guest, thinking it to be Maria or her father.

Dr. Bryson's red-haired secretary stood on the welcome mat. She quickly flashed some business card and invited herself in. "Donna Noble, school board investigator," she had said. "I heard about your son."

"I imagine so, since you work at Chelsea Hall," she retorted, a tad colder than she had meant. "Tea?"

"You may want to sit down, Ms. Smith." Acting as though she owned the place, Donna led the way to the living room and sat on the couch.

Sarah Jane, very irritated, joined her. "I'm sorry, where did you say you were from?"

"Your son's disappearance was no accident." Donna dug through the large bag she had brought with her, pulling out a thin file. "Over the years, every so often, one of Chelsea Hall's prodigal students goes missing. Since not enough disappear to give the school a bad rep, no one looks into it. (And I'm pretty sure they buy them off.) But I stumbled upon something interesting on the internet." She tore through her paper clipped pages, clasping a promising bit of information. "Dr. Bryson has been the headmaster of Chelsea Hall since it was founded fifty years ago."

*********


	5. The Absence of Will

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot: **Luke Smith is missing, abducted by aliens for an unknown purpose. Across time and space, the empress of J'Pynollw is missing, and the Doctor must find her or Martha will suffer a terrible fate. It is a race to find those lost and uncover the mystery behind the stolen children, bringing everyone together. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes: **Takes place after the SJA episode The Lost Boy (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes Family of Blood and Blink (Series III).

**Edit: **I realized I had a continuity error. How can this story take place during Season 2 of Torchwood (after Jack met the Doctor again in Utopia, Series III) when in Doctor Who it is before that episode? So I made some changes!

*********

**Chapter Five**: The Absence of Will

"I'll be back before you know it," Gwen promised, ignoring the heavy feeling in her stomach as she lied to her beau. Rhys protested, and she knew it was because he wanted to spend time with her. All the while, Gwen kept thinking about how dangerous it could be, then recalled her conversation with Jack.

"Torchwood is not going to get involved," he had said.

"But I'm not Torchwood, Jack! There is a child missing, and I can find him--whether it is on Earth or-" she had faltered, searching for some obscure planet name.

"Raxicoricofallapatorius?" he had suggested, not smiling. "Gwen-!"

She had only sternly folded her arms over her chest and glared. "If I can figure out what race, then we have some hope. I'm not asking for any help. Just let me go, Jack. Let me do some good."

And he had, against his better judgment. Jack had allowed her to go alone (despite Tosh's protests) to meet up with Sarah Jane Smith. He had never met the former companion personally, but he was confident in everything he had learned about the journalist.

As Gwen drove on the M4 (past the Severen Bridge), her thoughts were consumed with Luke Smith. She, too, had researched both Ms. Smith and her son, shocked at what she had discovered. Jack had been right; Sarah Jane _did_ battle aliens (most recently the Slitheen, and for a second time in only a year).

For the tenth time, she checked the address on file (13 Bannerman Road, Ealing), her phone still clutched to her ear as Rhys whispered empty promises of what they'd be doing should she be at home instead. Gwen just hoped that she wasn't too late, that Sarah Jane Smith was okay and _not_ running blindly into Chelsea Hall alone. Although, if it were her child missing, Gwen Cooper would do just that--guns ready.

"Oh, Gwen, one more thing," Jack had said before she had left. Above her, he had closed his office door and leaned against it, looking very amused. "No guns. Sarah Jane doesn't like them. You have to do this Policewoman Polly style."

Gwen had smiled and matched his stance, teasing him. "I've been doing it that way for years, Jack, before I got caught up with you lot."

"Good luck, and be careful. I don't want to have to come after you." He had pulled her into a tight embrace, his lips ghosting over her temples.

"You won't."

"Call me when you get to London," Rhys requested, interrupting her thoughts.

"I will. I love you," she said, unsure whether she had said it more out of guilt over the memory of Jack or because she meant it.

"Right, that's why you're never at home now with this new job." He laughed, told her that he loved her, too, and hung up.

*********

Luke forced his eyes open, blinking into the brilliant light of the room. He tried to put his surroundings into focus, but everything seemed to be blurred by the light. A loud, hollow hum echoed throughout the large, spherical room, sounding like the whir of a very large refrigerator. Before him, against the white of everything, Luke saw a tall pillar that stretched from the bottom to the barely visible ceiling hundreds of feet above.

He made to move, scared when his body didn't obey him. Silently (because he couldn't even open his mouth), he willed himself to move. Luke could only breathe, blink, and swallow. Then his fingers twitched, and his toes, slowly followed by his knees bending with the cool metal support chair. Someone or some_thing_ was working his muscles for him, obviously wanting to keep him alive and healthy. As the thin, nimble robotic arms stretched his neck and turned his head, Luke could see the various needles plugged into his body, the wires coming from his head (feeling one rub lightly against an oddly cool bit of flesh where hair and bone should have been).

And then, as fear overtook him, Luke could hear numerous other chairs moving their occupants, could see the outline of others like him--paralyzed in a seat, wearing thin robes, the tops of their heads exposed and connected to some unseen machine.

If he could vomit, he would. But it seemed that one of the IV's prevented even that reflex.

As soon as the exercise completed some unknown time later, his head was snapped back firmly into place. Two very long and thin arms neared his face, the fingers like pincers as they opened and closed. They made contact with his skin, cutting into him with cool pressure. His eyes were forced wide open--and Luke had lost the ability to blink. Immediately his eyes began to burn and water.

He felt icy droplets fall into his eyes from somewhere above, momentarily relishing in the sensation. Until, that is, he saw the reason why he was being subjected to such torture. All along the pillar, screens came into view and neared each chair. Much to Luke's surprise, his welcome was in English. But before he could even process this, a program stared and Luke lost his last bit of freewill--his ability to think.

*********

"Doctor," Martha hissed as they were being escorted to the palace. "I refuse to stay a prisoner here! What if you don't find his daughter? I'll be-"

"-trapped on a tropical planet," he tiredly finished under his breath. "It's really not that bad--you're going to be treated exactly like a guest . . .who can't leave," he added with a nervous look to his companion. "Martha, I am going to come back for you--whether I find the Empress or not. You have nothing to worry about! I'm the best bit of hope they've had since she was taken . . .oh, ten years ago, was it?"

"You don't even know who could have-" but her words were lost in her throat as the palace came into view. It was large and looked to be made of ice the way it shimmered in the suns' rays. Martha had never seen anything so exquisite. Made of the glass from ancient thunderstorms, the palace stood strong and of ornate design (she was reminded of the Taj Mahal and a Russian Orthodox church).

"The J'Pynollwians have an idea who could have done this, but since they do not possess any space craft (they _need_ the suns' vitamins or they will die), they can't go after this species," the Doctor said, completely unimpressed with the palace after having seen it countless times. "Still think it's a better tradeoff--I risk one of my remaining lives to hunt some hostile alien race while you tan and eat bananas! I wish we _could_ trade!"

"It's still against my will," she argued, her tone suddenly less angry. "You have three days, Doctor. If you don't return by then, when I do see you--you'll wish the Family got their way and sucked your remaining lives."

"Harsh words." Yet he smiled, reminded of Jackie Tyler for a moment.

They reached the entrance, and Martha (looking surly) was chartered away (one of the awaiting female servants doting on her and complimenting her exotic beauty). The Emperor, who had no name as such were too common for someone as important as him, led the Doctor to their library. His skin, the Doctor noticed, was a rich purple now, bordering on blue.

He wash happy . . .er.

"Doctor," he squeakily boomed, taking out a scroll from one of the shelves. "This is the report on my missing daughter. Read it. Tell me your thoughts."

"Of course." He patted his pockets, suddenly remembering that he was still in his swimming trunks.

"Need something?"

"What? No, no. I'm fine." The Doctor took the scroll, wishing he had his specs with him. Carefully, he unrolled it, smoothing it out onto the nearest surface. His eyes darted from symbol to symbol, eagerly devouring and deciphering it. "Are you sure?" he asked minutes later.

"Yes."

"But it can't be! They haven't been seen in centuries! They-They had a civil war and no one-!" he stopped, running his hands through his hair. "They're extinct."

"They are not, Doctor. That record is accurate--I saw it with my own eyes." The Emperor went pink again, the mere memory making him angry.

"Then why didn't you do anything? If you knew-?!"

"What could I have done, Doctor? How was I to know what would happen?" His skin turned a red that could rival the Racnoss. "I saw him lure her away with his alien charm! Then they disappeared and _that's_ when I knew, Doctor! Only one race has that technology, has that confidence and aura, that _hunger_ for power and knowledge!"

"The Mirayn," he whispered, paling under the thought of them back.

"The Mirayn," the Emperor echoed nastily. "The seducers of legend. Thankfully an emperor must be well-versed in lore.

"B-But why you lot? Really, you're quite ignorant compared to most races. How could they know?"

"Rumors, it seems, even reach the dead. They know about us, Doctor. They know about all of us, even you. And it's only a matter of time before they capture you. According to history, the Mirayn have never collected a Time Lord before."

For a long moment, the Doctor stared at the Emperor in horror. In all his years, he had only come across the ancient species once, and he was lucky that it had been before they made their cocoons and became the Mirayn that races feared. It had been sometime when he was young, maybe just two centuries old, but he hadn't forgotten the slug-like creature (as harmless as it was in that stage).

*********

Her son's schoolbag had been found and returned to her, missing nothing and bearing no sign of a struggle. It was thought now that he had run away, despite his cell phone and wallet being exactly where Luke had always kept them (money included).

"Would he have any reason to run away?" Officer Dent had asked.

"No! He didn't run away, he was taken!"

"There is no evidence that suggests that." He had paused, giving Ms. Smith an apologetic look. "He started a new school--Chelsea Hall. They're very prestigious and work their students hard. Do you think that perhaps he felt over whelmed and decided to-?"

"H-He wouldn't!" she had shouted angrily. And that had ended their discussion, which left her with Donna Noble telling her all about Dr. Bryson.

Part of her wanted to go upstairs and immediately have Mr. Smith confirm everything, and the idea made her ill. Why hadn't she done so earlier? Why hadn't she listened to Clyde and double checked, just to be sure? _Because_, she thought honestly, _you believed he was wrong, that there was nothing to worry about._

It was late, just after eleven on the evening after her son's disappearance and Sarah Jane couldn't sleep (unlike her guest whom was snoring on the couch). Perhaps it was good she couldn't, for a loud bang at her door signaled help.

Torchwood had come after all.

*********


	6. The Race Against Time

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot: **Luke Smith is missing, abducted by aliens for an unknown purpose. Across time and space, the empress of J'Pynollw is missing, and the Doctor must find her or Martha will suffer a terrible fate. It is a race to find those lost and uncover the mystery behind the stolen children, bringing everyone together. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes: **Takes place after the SJA episode The Lost Boy (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes Family of Blood and Blink (Series III).

*********

**Chapter Six**: The Race Against Time

"Hello, Ms. Smith, I'm Gwen Cooper. I-"

"Yes, I know who you are. Come in!" She ushered her guest inside, taking her to the kitchen and promptly began making tea. "Call me Sarah Jane," she said. "So, Torchwood has decided to help me, I see."

It broke Gwen's heart to answer. "No, I'm here alone, but," she hastily added, catching the pain on Sarah Jane's face. "But since I work for Torchwood, I can help and it's all the same, really. Oh, and I don't have a gun."

"I wouldn't have minded if you did! That's _my_ son they have, Gwen!" She took a large sip of her drink. "We need to go to Chelsea Hall and learn everything we can about it and Dr. Bryson. He's an alien, I think."

"Great, now I wish I did have my gun with me," sighed Gwen, staring blankly into her mug. "What makes you think he's an alien?"

"His secretary told me. She's been working there undercover to exploit the mystery about the school." Sarah Jane let out a breath. "The police believe Luke, my son, ran away. But he wouldn't--he _didn't_. Someone, this Dr. Bryson, took him and I don't know why or where."

"He's not on Earth," Gwen informed, showing Ms. Smith the information Jack had collected.

"Yes, I-I know. My computer Mr. Smith had told me. But where is me? Did the Slitheen take him? Is he on Raxicoricofallapatorius?"

Donna walked into the room, irritable with fatigue yet did her best to conceal it. "Let's use Mr. Smith to figure that out, then," she suggested, although it sounded more like a grumble.

"I'm sorry, but this is classified. Only people trained in this can help," Gwen told Donna, rifling through her purse for emergency RetCon.

"What? And Ms. Sarah Jane Smith is trained in dealing with aliens, is she? I've _seen_ aliens! I was abducted on my wedding day and saw my fiancée fed to spider people!" screamed Donna, livid that some Welsh woman was going to tell her what to do.

"Wait, was this last Christmas?" asked Gwen, looking up to study Donna.

"YES! I got sucked into some police box spaceship with some skinny idiot-!"

"You met the Doctor?" Sarah Jane gasped. "You know the Doctor, don't you? Where is he?"

"I don't know. I've been trying to find him. That's why I'm at Chelsea Hall," she answered. "I figured it'd be the type of place he'd go to uncover some alien plot to take over the universe."

"B-But what happened to Rose? And Mickey?" Her heart skipped in her chest. "Donna can help us, Gwen. She traveled with the Doctor; she understands."

Gwen didn't look very pleased about this, especially since everyone seemed to know this Doctor except for her. "Fine," she reluctantly agreed. "I'm Gwen Cooper, by the way."

"Donna Noble," she curtly replied, not taking the offered hand. "And did I hear you talk about Torchwood? I have a bone to pick with them. It's _their_ fault why I almost got eaten by a giant spider!" She frowned at Gwen's poor attempt to hide a smile.

*********

The following morning, the three women sat around the breakfast table discussing plans to get into Chelsea Hall. It was decided that, since Donna was a secretary (albeit only temporarily), she'd get all the files on the small handful of former students whom have gone missing since the school had been founded fifty years ago. Sarah Jane and Gwen would break into Dr. Bryson's office and search it for anything alien (they'd have to do this either at night or have Donna distract him; they chose the latter).

"Well, it's Sunday. We can do it tomorrow when I work again," suggested Donna through a mouthful of Gris bun and cinnamon yogurt.

"And how will you distract him?" Gwen inquired, doubtful of the red-haired woman's abilities.

Donna looked at the woman as though she'd like nothing more than to slap her across the face. "I don't have to be able to blast spider web spaceships outta the sky to be able to distract a _single_ alien!"

"He could be dangerous," Sarah Jane added.

"So can I!"

Since her son had gone missing two and a half days ago, Sarah Jane finally felt hopeful. With a former companion to the Doctor (despite it only being a few hours) and a member of Torchwood, she had the best help she could get. But if only the Doctor were around. _He'd know exactly where to look_, Sarah Jane thought.

*********

"I have no idea where to even begin," the Doctor mumbled to himself, tugging madly on his hair. "I can't go straight to Mirayn; they'll _collect_ me! Think, think!" He stared at the controls at the center console, completely at a loss of what to do. If only Rose were around. _Rose would know what to do. She always had the answers._

*********

Luke stirred again, glad that he had regained control of blinking and thought. His eyes hurt, a dull throbbing pain that went deep into his skull. He noticed that others were awake, too. He tried to remember what had happened when he had lost the ability to think, but found that he couldn't. All he could focus on was the pain in his brain. It wouldn't surprise him if his captors could see it throb through the hole in his head.

Curiosity, a luxury he hadn't been able to afford upon first waking in the strange place, consumed him, ate at him as his muscles were being exercised for him again. Where was he? Why was he wherever he was anyway? What was the pillar? And why were there so many others there, too?

Much to his shock, one of the other occupants moaned loudly. Envy shot through Luke. It sounded muffled, as though his (or her?) mouth was still forcibly closed but had somehow regained the ability to speak. Luke quickly concluded that the subduing drugs were wearing off or that the other captive was being immune, and that the person had learned how to scream again.

She (Luke later deduced the gender) cried out more and kept crying eve as two very frightening and disgusting looking slugs slithered into the sphere room. She screamed louder, unable to thrash about in her chair as they neared her. Luke strained to see, his eyeballs nearly rolling to inside his skull, and was horrified by the creatures--unnaturally tall and thin, squeaking along the floor as their skinny bodies slid against it. They had three arms on each side, and three claws for feet mirroring their upper appendages. They were a putrid yellow in color and by far the most repulsive thing Luke had ever seen.

One of them replaced a bag on her chair (Luke heard the crinkle of plastic and the gentle slosh of liquid). Almost instantly, the girl's strangled screams stopped and the slugs disappeared back where they had came. Then the monitors came out of the pillar and the program began for a second time. Luke's eyes, still in pain from the last session, were forced open by the metal fingers. This time, he distinctively felt a thin needle enter through his cornea.

*********


	7. By the Swing of the Pendulum

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot: **Luke Smith is missing, abducted by aliens for an unknown purpose. Across time and space, the empress of J'Pynollw is missing, and the Doctor must find her or Martha will suffer a terrible fate. It is a race to find those lost and uncover the mystery behind the stolen children, bringing everyone together. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes: **Takes place after the SJA episode The Lost Boy (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes Family of Blood and Blink (Series III).

*********

**Chapter Seven**: By the Swing of the Pendulum

"Good morning, Dr. Bryson," Donna greeted, giving her boss his morning tea (unsweetened chamomile). "Have a nice weekend?"

He looked up from his computer and stared at her curiously for a moment, a flicker of something dark in his eyes. Quickly, as though realizing his mistake, the headmaster broke into one of his dazzling grins, momentarily unsettling his secretary. "Yes, Ms. Noble. It was splendid. How was yours?"

She neared him to place the mug on his fancy oak desk. "Oh, you know me, went out shopping. There was a fabulous sale at Henrick's."

"Really?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested. "Is that where you bought that lovely new perfume you're wearing?"

"What? No, I'm not wearing any perfume," Donna replied, slightly flustered under the intensity of his stare.

Dr. Bryson leaned towards her, his devastatingly handsome face inches from her hair. He took a rather audible sniff. "My mistake, must be your shampoo." In one swift, elegant movement, he got to his feet. "I will be very busy today, Ms. Noble." Again, he smiled, his teeth almost sparkling. "I will be observing lessons. If you should need me for anything," he paused, as if sensing the effect he was having on her, "Well, I think you can handle it, don't you?"

"Yeah, of course," answered Donna after a large gulp. _God, even if he an evil alien, he's gorgeous! Much better looking than that skinny idiot Doctor._

It was several minutes of blank staring and blinking before Donna could remember what she was supposed to do. Tray still in hand, she stumbled blindly out the room and somehow made her way to her desk, where the phone had been ringing for quite a while. Still in a daze, she answered it. "Er, hello?"

"What the hell have you been doing?" hissed an angry voice on the other end. "We've been waiting for you to phone for ten minutes!" It was Gwen, and she undoubtedly was questioning Donna's ability.

"What? Ten minutes?" That couldn't be right. She _couldn't_ have been standing in Dr. Bryson's office for that long. Could she have? Her gaze flickered to the time on her desktop; she _had_. She had been in there for half an hour. But doing what?

Sarah Jane's warning echoed in her mind. _"He could be dangerous."_

_"So can I."_

Then Donna recalled, with a funny feeling in her stomach, the odd look Dr. Bryson (he didn't seem to have a first name, just an initial--M) had given her, and his comment about her smell. She shook her head in disbelief; he _couldn't _have known, not unless he could read minds. And if he could--

"Donna?" Gwen called, interrupting her thoughts. "We're coming in." She hung up, yet Donna still clutched the receiver.

It was a trap. And with no time to warn them.

Seconds later, it seemed, Gwen and Sarah Jane entered through the front entrance. "Donna, are you alright?" Ms. Smith asked upon seeing the woman's white face.

"H-He knows," she whispered.

"How?"

"Look, we're here and we're doing this," cut in Gwen. "I didn't come this far to be deterred by one alien. He can't be that dangerous. Come on, Sarah Jane." The women went into Dr. Bryson's office, hastily closing and sealing the door shut with the sonic lipstick.

But Donna found it difficult to focus. All she could think about was Dr. Bryson--from his jade green eyes to his brilliant teeth. He was . . .perfect. There was no other word for him. How she longed to hear him speak again, drown herself in his words. He had called her perfume _lovely_, never mind that she wasn't wearing any. Dr. Bryson thought she smelled beautiful.

_"Ms. Noble, it is always a pleasure to see you. Please, sit. Tell me about yourself. I am very interested in knowing all there is to you."_

And she had.

Everything.

*********

It was break time again, one of the longer ones they'd get (they usually had three a day, Luke supposed, guessing that the last break was for sleep). From the rest periods, Luke estimated that he had been missing for at least two days, maybe more. His first night there, Luke had been so exhausted that he had fallen asleep almost immediately. Now, however, he was wide awake with no hope in resting.

Luke decided to use his time wisely, to force himself to remember how he had gotten to the Sphere (as he now called it). It hurt his brain to think, and intensified a dozen fold as he racked his memory. He _had_ to remember; he _needed _to know.

_"Ah, Luke, might I have a word before you leave today?" Dr. Bryson asked._

_"Yes, of course." He swallowed hard, afraid he had gotten into trouble for contradicting a professor in class earlier that day._

_"Wonderful, please follow me to my office." They passed the secretary's desk, which was empty as Ms. Noble had already left for the day. Both sat in silence for a minute, Dr. Bryson staring at Luke quite intensely._

_"You are a very smart young man, Luke," he complimented, using that eerily charming smile of his. "Easily one of the brightest, if not best, at Chelsea Hall."_

_"Thank you, Sir."_

_Dr. Bryson breathed in deeply, smiling. "Your knowledge of science is, to put it mildly, extraordinary." Again, he paused. "I would like to offer you an opportunity, Luke, one that only the best are given."_

_Luke gulped. Could Clyde have been right all along? "And what opportunity is that, Sir?" He had only been at the school for a week. How could that be enough time to prove himself to be the best?_

_The headmaster was now positively beaming, looking very reminiscent of the Cheshire cat. "I'd like you to help me with something." His tone changed somewhat, slightly more melodic and soothing than usual. Luke couldn't think about anything, he just wanted to help Dr. Bryson._

_And why not? He was kind, handsome, generous-_

_-manipulative, conniving, wrong-_

No_, his mind argued. _I should help him. He's so . . .brilliant, perfect.

_"Of course, I don't expect an answer now, Luke. Perhaps you should ask your mother about it first."_

How would you be helping him?_ his logic argued, the sensible voice in his head becoming more feeble as the headmaster continued to grin at him._

_"Unless, you don't wish to?" And Dr. Bryson sounded hurt, as though he, Luke, had stabbed him. That just wouldn't do._

_"No, I want to help you, Sir. In any way I can."_

Don't!

_"Really? How wonderful. Let us discuss this more on Monday, Luke. Don't forget to sign out."_

The rest of the memory was a blur; his mind too preoccupied with wonder and awe over his headmaster. Yet, he could distinctly recall a flash of light some time during his walk to the bus stop. After that, the last thing he remembered was waking up in the Sphere.

His brain hurt more than ever, and Luke could feel the needles probing inside his skull. Somehow, he was connected to the pillar, that he knew, and it controlled him for some unknown purpose. Luke was reminded of The Matrix, having seen it once at Clyde's. But why? Why was he hooked up to some giant . . ._Computer!_ his mind screamed the word, causing such excruciating pain he felt nauseas.

There was no denying it, Luke's brain was being used to help process a massive CPU.

*********

Martha tried to shove away the greasy handed J'Pynollwian, whom was a very deep blue that glittered (she shuddered at what the glittering could mean), but he forced her back onto her lounge chair and gave her _another_ massage--the fifth one that day. She had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that they were a considerate people. She mused they must've been bored with no visitors, for everyone seemed to want to make her feel comfortable, despite being a prisoner. _Especially Gulack,_ thought Martha as his expert hands worked on her back.

"You are stressed?" Gulack asked, finding a pressure point along her spine.

"No," she snapped. "How can I be stressed? I've had massages all day!" At first, Martha had been surprised that she could understand the J'Pynollwians, with the TARDIS gone. She hadn't expected that. However, she discovered, rather disgustedly, that there was bacteria in the water that worked as translating microbes. They had assured her that when she would leave the planet, the bacteria would die without the water.

Her rudeness didn't deter him. Instead, it seemed to make him happier. Gulack sparkled more than ever. "Perhaps you are worried about your husband?" He spoke in constant questions, in which Martha learned was a way to be polite so as not to assume or appear presumptuous (much unlike the Emperor, whom she hadn't seen since her first day).

"My what?" spluttered Martha.

He giggled, a high pitched nasal sound that made her bones turn to jelly. "You love him, no?"

She sighed. "Can we please not talk about my love life, yeah? I'm already bein' held prisoner here, don't need to make me suffer any more than I already am."

Ignoring her, he confirmed her suspicions. "But you glow?"

That was the final straw. In a surge of strength, Martha flipped over suddenly, momentarily frightening Gulack (he had turned white for a second, but had still glowed). She opened her mouth to retort, and a female servant (perhaps sensing trouble), used the opportunity to shove a piece of food in her mouth.

"You'll want to chew that carefully, Mistress, yes?" she squeaked, sounding very much like a twelve year old girl on helium. "It is very thick and you must relax, yes?"

Martha glowered at the blue creature, pleased to see that she wasn't sparkling. Yet the food eased her, and she found it to be the most delicious thing she had ever tasted. She didn't care it was thick and that the taste coated her entire mouth; she didn't _ever_ want the flavor to go away.

Jinala, the female servant, smiled. "You are enjoying the taste of J'Pynollwian, yes?"

"Y-You mean," she swallowed the delicacy reluctantly, "a traditional food of J'Pynollw, right?"

"No?" Again, she beamed, her radiance lost in the brilliance of the sun. "When we die blue, our bodies become nourishment, yes? And nourishment makes us happy, yes? You were happy when you ate Gogulu, yes?"

"Gogulu?" echoed Martha, not liking where the conversation was going at all.

"Gogulu was my grandfather, yes?"

There was a long pause in which Martha stared blankly at her.

"Jinala, she is green, no?"

"The Doctor can't get here any faster . . ." She mumbled weakly.

*********

"Donna!" Sarah Jane whispered an hour later. "Donna, did you get the files?"

She blinked at the woman before her. "What?"

"I told you she shouldn't have come," Gwen murmured, looking quite livid. "Let's go."

"But there's something wrong with Donna. Look at her, she's white as a ghost! What if Dr. Bryson did something to her?"

"Yes, indeed," came a musical voice from the shadows. "What if I did something to Donna Noble?" He came into view, looking more stunning and predatory than Sarah Jane thought to be possible. "Hello again, Ms. Smith. Who is your lovely friend?"

*********


	8. The Many Faces of Danger

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Plot: **Luke Smith is missing, abducted by aliens for an unknown purpose. Across time and space, the empress of J'Pynollw is missing, and the Doctor must find her or Martha will suffer a terrible fate. It is a race to find those lost and uncover the mystery behind the stolen children, bringing everyone together. Crossover with all series in the Doctor Who universe.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Doctor Who, The Sarah Jane Adventures, or Torchwood. All belong to the BBC.

**Notes: **Takes place after the SJA episode The Lost Boy (Season I), before the Season 1 finale of Torchwood, and between the Doctor Who episodes Family of Blood and Blink (Series III).

*********

**Chapter Eight:** The Many Faces of Danger

The Doctor had no choice, and he knew it. He was going to have to go to Mirayn, and that scared him a bit (as much as he didn't want to admit it). Centuries ago, back when the Mirayn had roamed the universe in their sleek and magnificent vessels, they were one of the most feared races.

Usually when the Mirayn had visited other worlds, they went in their first form, the form they had for the first two hundred years of their lives. No one really knew they even had a second form, an impossibly beautiful body that resembled those of humans (only with a grace and elegance that made humans look more like their monkey ancestors). The Mirayn never distinguished between themselves, never told anyone about their _true_ form--the form that crippled entire solar systems.

Power hungry, greedy, and persuasive, the Mirayn could worm their way onto any planet and within a few centuries (a mere blip of time for them), have stripped it bare and turned the inhabitants into slaves. To only add to the problem, the Mirayn were smart--geniuses of the universe.

All seemed to be going well with their conquering of the galaxy after galaxy until a civil war broke out--the Mirayn I and Mirayn II. While the Mirayn I were stupid and hideous, they were powerful and reckless. They were tired of being the slaves to their beautiful elders. It lasted for hundreds of years, and then they disappeared from existence for nearly a millennia.

Until now.

And it seemed they were banking on no one remembering them at all. However, as the last of the Time Lords, it was his responsibility to take care of them. Having never personally met a true Mirayn before (only heard stories), the Doctor wasn't quite sure what to do. What had they been doing for the past few centuries?

Desperately hoping to be unnoticed, the Doctor exited his shop and ogled at the ornate walls of his surroundings. There was no nature (having long since been destroyed), only extravagant structures and erections. It was quite like a beautiful space station, only it was a planet--a large planet with an infinite number of places the Empress of J'Pynollw could be, if she were even still alive.

"Can't go about asking the natives," he thought out loud. "I'll just . . . " he caught himself, grimacing upon the realization that he was talking to himself, "er, nip on back inside."

*********

"We have a situation with Gwen," Tosh announced to Jack later that day.

"You've been keeping an eye on her." It wasn't a question, and she was relieved to see that he didn't look upset.

Tosh took his attitude to mean it was okay to continue. "I-I told her to phone every few hours so that we . . ._I_ know she's safe. I haven't heard from her since this morning."

Ianto paled. "What are we going to do? We still have those Weevils to take bring in, and that artifact found in the bay." He plopped down on a nearby couch. "Jack?"

"One of us will have to go--either _you_ Tosh or Owen."

"What about me? Why can't I go?" demanded Ianto, clearly offended.

"I need my morning tea," he half-joked. Jack sighed, rubbing his chin. "Okay, I had a feeling something like this would happen, but we can't leave Gwen to solve this on her own."

"So you had intended to help her all along?" inquired Tosh, unable to keep the anger out of her voice.

"Not exactly." Captain Harkness had already thought of all the reasons why _he_ should be the one to help Gwen--a chance to see the Doctor, go on another adventure, find out what had happened on Satellite 5 and why--but now wasn't the time, not if the Doctor may not even show. Besides, his detector was as idle as ever. "I didn't want us to get involved, but now it seems we have no choice." Jack looked at Owen. "You're going."

"What?" he sputtered.

"Jack, he _can't_ go! He's a . . . .bastard!" Tosh exclaimed, now half out of her chair at her desk.

"I'm sure Owen could make tea . . ." Ianto mused to himself.

"Quiet! I made my decision. Tosh, you're too important to go right now. I need your help with that artifact."

"Thanks," she grumbled, falling back into her seat just as Owen mumbled something incoherent.

He ignored Dr. Harper's snide remark. "Ianto, I need you, too."

The tea boy blushed.

"Why me? Tosh is right. I _am_ a bastard-!"

"That's why you're going. You don't take crap from anyone, and you don't need a gun to get your point across."

Owen's jaw dropped. "I-I can't have a gun?!"

"No. Sarah Jane wouldn't like it--I know we're doing her a favor," he added hastily, talking over more shouts. "But we are going to do this her way. I-It's," Jack sighed, debating whether or not to tell them why, "it's for a friend."

*********

"What did you do to Donna?" demanded Gwen through clenched teeth.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Dr. Bryson answered, smirking at the woman. "But goodness me, she doesn't look very well, does she?" Faster than their human eyes could register, he appeared next to Donna, stroking her red hair. His mouth was inches from her ear and already whispering before either woman could fathom what was happening.

"Stop!" Sarah Jane ordered. "She's innocent! Leave her alone!"

"Oh, she's hardly innocent,, Ms. Smith. You see, she's already told me everything. I've been waiting for you . . .and our mutual acquaintance." He straightened up, still caressing his secretary as though she were some pet. "It was only a matter of _time_. I'm a very patient man, and I always get what I want."

"What do you want?" Gwen wished she had her gun. Her blood boiled hot as the headmaster chuckled deeply at her.

"Perhaps you are the ignorant one." In a stunning blur, he appeared before her. This time, though, neither missed it, both ready. They could hear the soft sound of wings flapping as he moved.

"You don't frighten me," she hissed.

"I should hope not." He laughed again. "It's been a very long time since I've frightened anyone."

"What have you done with my son? Where is Luke?" interrupted Sarah Jane, fury etched on her face. Her fists were balled at her sides, and she looked ready to strike.

"Don't worry yourself over him, Ms. Smith. He has left you to pursue better things. He is helping-" Dr. Bryson's words were cut short as Sarah Jane delivered a smack to his face. Despite looking dangerously livid, he also looked positively gorgeous, like a lion about to catch his prey. His pale green eyes flashed with malice and his skin seemed to shine with power.

For a fleeting second, neither knew whether to be scared or attracted to him.

"No one slaps me and gets away-"

"Oh, shut up! Now you listen to me, Dr. Bryson or whoever you are. I want my son back this instant or you are going to have a hell of a lot more to worry about than a slap from me!"

Gwen blinked. She hadn't expected this from the woman whom hated guns, but was still very pleased. Part of her wanted to call Tosh and tell her not to worry, that everything was under control. But she knew that was ridiculous and that getting help would be best. _He'll send some weapons_, she thought hopefully.

"My dear Sarah Jane," he crooned, "has the Doctor never cared to warn you about the Mirayn?"

*********

Dr. Owen Harper had grumbled to himself during the entire three hour drive to 13 Bannerman Road. He suspected he could have gotten there faster if he were allowed the SUV, but Jack had refused. Instead, Owen had been stuck driving _his_ car, using _his_ petrol, and paying with _his_ money for the toll and snacks. It was as though rescuing Gwen had been _his_ idea, and that just annoyed him even more.

He exited his vehicle and slammed the door, alerting the nosey neighbors across the street. Owen ignored the father and daughter duo as they ran over to him, immediately bombarding him with questions. It wasn't until the girl, Maria, pulled a spare house key from nowhere that he had no choice but the listen to their babbles.

"What are you blabbering about?" he asked wearily, talking over Maria.

She glowered at him. "Is Sarah Jane alright?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm here, isn't it?" Owen watched as Mr. Jackson entered the house. "Wait, it could be dangerous!"

"I've already faced 'dangerous'," he coolly responded.

"I hate working with people," grumbled Owen so that no one could hear. "Look, you lot have no idea-"

"Yes, we do," cut in Maria. "And if Sarah Jane is in trouble, we want to help."

"You have got to be shi-" One look from Mr. Jackson, and Owen stopped. "What? I can't have a gun _and_ I can't curse? I'm in bloody Scooby Doo!"

"Sorry, who are you?" Alan demanded, eyeing Owen with contempt.

"I should be asking you the same. Sarah Jane asked for help, and I'm giving it. Why don't you go back home, eat a curry or something, watch the telly, and let Dr. Harper handle this."

"A-Are you _the_ Doctor?" gasped Maria, finding Gwen's bag only to have it snatched out of her hands.

"If I say 'yes', will you leave?"

"Who's the Doctor?" Alan asked.

"_I'm_ the Doctor!" Owen bellowed, sick of being bothered. "Now, where are Sarah Jane and Gwen?"

"Chelsea Hall," the girl answered matter-of-factly, much to his annoyance. "Come on, dad. Let's go get-"

"No, you lot stay put. It's too dangerous for Daddy Hero and Daughter Wonder to go battling scary headmasters," he sneered.

Both glared at him and crossed their arms over their chests, blocking the doorway. "We are going. With or without you," she told him.

"Well, fuc-" Owen swallowed, unsure what to be angrier about--unable to do things his way (cursing blindly and guns waving) or having some family tag along. "Don't say I didn't warn you. No complaining, or you're out. Got it?"

"Somehow I doubt it will be us complaining," Mr. Jackson agreed, grinning in triumph.

*********


	9. The Heart of the Machine

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the lack of updates. I've had serious writer's block.

*********

**Chapter Nine: ** The Heart of the Machine

Sarah Jane stiffened. The Doctor didn't tell her about _every_ hostile race in the universe (that would take some time), but she recalled one of their last adventures together—a planet had been strip mined and the inhabitants had been left for dead. She had asked the Doctor, "Who could have done this? The Daleks?"

"No," he had answered gravely, looking about him with wide brown eyes. "I've heard stories, met one once . . ." his voice had trailed. "This is the work of the Mirayn."

"Who are they, Doctor?"

"One of the universe's oldest races, and most feared. They are magnificent thieves and talented artisans-"

"You sound like you revere them," Sarah Jane had said indignantly.

"I respect them, as should you," he had agreed. "The Mirayn have been helpful in the past."

Dr. Bryson chuckled deeply, snapping her back to reality. "I see that, perhaps, the Doctor has told you about us after all."

"Of course!" she shouted, straightening up. "You're a disgusting race!"

"I'm sure those weren't his exact words, Ms. Smith."

"Look, I don't care what race you are," Gwen cut in, "but whatever you are doing here—kidnapping children, it ends now!" Her chest heaved. If there was one thing she loathed above all, it was hurting innocent children.

The alien grinned maliciously, and it only made him look more beautiful, yet dangerously so like a lion about to kill. "I have all that I need, for now," he added slowly. "I'll return when my little geniuses have perished, shall I? Years after your deaths."

"The hell you-" started Gwen, but was silenced by a sudden rush of air thundering towards her. The room filled with the powerful wind, with Dr. Bryson at the eye of the storm. Squinting, she could almost make out rapidly beating wings, moving impossibly fast.

The women were thrown backward, pressed hard against a wall as papers, chairs, and other objects fell over, crashing close to them. "You fool!" yelled Sarah Jane. "Someone will catch you!"

"No, my dear," he soothingly replied, smirking at the sight of the unconscious Donna Noble. "I'll be gone. Really, reporters shouldn't be so careless." Even though his voice was low and the wind whistled loudly in they ears, the pair could hear him clearly. "Don't forget to clean up your mess."

Faster still, Dr. Bryson fluttered his wings. The walls cracked and creaked ominously. Windows shattered, sending glass flying in every direction. His pale eyes flashed brilliantly as he grinned, and his finely tailored suit seemed to melt off his body. In a loud, yet devastatingly moving hum that could have lasted forever, he disappeared, leaving destruction in his wake.

*********

"Turn left," came the automated voice of the ATMOS in Owen's car. He did as instructed, stopping outside the gate of a small, yet elegantly designed building.

"I could have told you a shortcut," Mr. Jackson said, watching as Owen opened his door and exited.

"If I wanted a shortcut," growled Owen, nettled, poking his head through his window into the car, "I would have programmed it in, yeah?"

"Our friends are in danger and you don't want a shortcut?" He wasn't sure why he was picking a fight, but something about the man made his skin crawl with dislike.

"Gwen is fine; she can take care of herself."

"What about Sarah Jane? She doesn't use weapons or guns-!"

"Well, Gwen doesn't have any on her, either!" Dr. Harper shot back, white with rage. He gripped the car door, steadying himself. "She offered to help your friend knowing it'd be a hell of a lot more dangerous than you lot do! And she agreed to do it without a gun! You think fighting aliens is easy, that everything can be fixed with bein' all nice! Well, it can't, and people die. So just sit there an' shut up an' let a professional take care of this!" Livid, Owen kicked violently at the intercom until it snapped and opened the gate.

When he got back inside, he ignored his guest, his mind on Diane, the pilot stuck out of her own time, and he was mad at himself for losing his cool. They knew nothing of the dangers of aliens—it was all a game to them. They didn't know what they did, what they were capable of. And his heart gave another heavy thump as he thought of his former fiancée Katie, and the alien whom had killed her.

They drove to the entrance, all three holding their breath and gasping in tandem upon sight of the front. Windows had been blown out, glass littered the lawn, and ambulances were there; one gurney rolled a red haired woman away. Students watched the scene from above their textbooks and through pages of notes; none interested in the destruction before them.

"I'm a doctor, let me through," demanded Owen, pushing past medical personnel. He found Gwen being forcefully administered oxygen. "What happened?"

She shook her head weakly, trying to shove the young paramedic away.

"Sarah Jane!" Maria squealed, running towards her neighbor on shaky legs.

"Maria," she gasped in response, holding her head and blinking up at her. "Why are you here?"

"We were worried about you. My dad and I saw a man at your house, said he was the Doctor-"

"Doctor!" Despite the strong hand holding her back, Sarah Jane managed a powerful lurch upwards. "Where is he? Doctor!" The woman followed Maria's gaze to an unfamiliar man, and for a fleeting moment she entertained the thought that maybe the Doctor had regenerated again.

_No,_ she told herself, _he would have come to me._ "Who is that man?" Defeated, Sarah Jane allowed the paramedic to administer to her.

"Some bas-" Alan began, stopping only as his neighbor gaped at him. "Ahem. No clue."

"How's Donna? Is she alright?"

"Ma'am, just sit back and relax. You have suffered a trauma—a gas explosion," Milligan ordered. He sighed, wondering how he, a pediatrician, got involved in this mess. _First come, first serve_, he thought with a small smile.

*********

The Doctor was alone. With Martha being on forced holiday incarceration by the J'Pynollwians, he had no one to help him rescue the Empress. Not that he, the Doctor, actually _needed_ help. He just enjoyed the company. Being the last of his people weighed heavily on him the most when no one was around to distract him from his thoughts.

If he were honest with himself, he'd admit that the Miryan scared the hell out of him. They were just as destructive as the Daleks, but perhaps more so since they always lured their victims into a false sense of security.

_Not this time,_ he thought. _I won't be fooled by them._ With a surge of manic desperation to rescue both Martha and the Empress, the Doctor cranked up the TARDIS's engines and set the coordinates for the heart of the Mirayn home world. If his instincts were correct, and they _usually_ were, then a planet that was a living machine surely would have some central base at the core.

The ship whirred with life as it spun through space and time, and the Doctor knew she, too, feared what the Mirayn could do to her.

"Come on, girl! It's an adventure! . . .and probably suicide, but that's what make it so . . .adventurous!" With slight trepidation, the Doctor patted his transidmensional pockets and stole out his ship.

Somewhere in the distance, a high frequency alarm sounded through the pristine white walls of the core of Mirayn.

*********

Luke ached. There wasn't any part of him that didn't throb with a dull pain. Most of all, his brain hurt. He could feel the thin jacks buried deep in his head, the computer he was connected to, and the power of it all. It was overwhelming, and Luke wondered why he had never noticed it before.

At the same time, a small part of him (the Bane part, he mused), actually _liked_ the connection. He had thousands of years, worlds, and species of knowledge at his very touch. They were all one. The universe's secrets flowed through his veins, swam with his blood as though a natural piece of him. Even though Luke didn't have free access to any of it, he could _feel_ the knowledge.

And it hurt. The connection hurt. Luke couldn't help but to think that the machine, the giant computer, was going to bring an early death to him.

"Comfortable?" came a voice from the doorway. The wall had melted away to reveal the portal that the slug-like creatures usually entered. Only it wasn't them this time.

_Dr. Bryson_, thought Luke bitterly, inwardly cursing the man for taking away his ability to speak.

The man smiled, his teeth matching the walls perfectly. "Of course you are. With the help of the _uhjan_, you can't feel anything. It's . . peaceful." His shiny shoes echoed in the room as he made his way past the others and to Luke. "It is unusual for my kind to ever step foot in this zoo. However, I thought I'd do you a favor, Mr. Smith, having grown so fond of you. You really are quite exceptional for a human, but I suppose that was just deliberate of the Bane when they had created you just over a year ago."

Luke could only stare at him, nauseous at the mere sight of the alien man.

"You see, Mr. Smith, your mother is trying to save you; she has hired friends to assist her. While I am not foolish enough for a second to believe that _she will succeed_, I have recently learned that a foreign object has appeared just outside this very room."

His heart thundered in his chest. Could it be? Was he going to be rescued? Was it the Doctor?

_No other species could possess the knowledge to get past Mirayn defenses into the core_. The information sounded in his mind as though Luke had somehow managed to access the mainframe. Hope surged through him.

"Please understand, Mr. Smith, the severity of the situation. If you are forcefully discharged, you will die." Dr. Bryson's jade eyes studied the boy before him. "As much as I respect your genius and will greatly miss you should you perish, I will not eject you. My people, the Mirayn, need your mind to survive." With that, he gave one last look of beautiful desperation and hastily flittered to the door, his large invisible wings flapping noiselessly behind him.

*********


	10. The Surrender of Self

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Author's Note:** In case some of you have been wondering why K9 hasn't helped yet, K9 wasn't (really) used in Series 1 of SJA (he was on some mission in space), so he isn't going to be used in this story to keep it as canon as possible. Also, there will be about two to three more chapters, and a possible epilogue.

**Chapter Ten: **The Surrender of Self

It was over. Dr. Bryson had left Earth, and they didn't know where any other Mirayn could be. With Donna in the hospital, the most recent known companion of the Doctor, they seemed out of luck.

Sarah Jane was back home, resting and still in immense pain from the invisible windstorm that horrible alien had caused. Doctors had tried to force her and Gwen into an ambulance as well, but they had refused. They couldn't get anything done while being poked and prodded.

Gwen nursed a headache with a cup of Maria's tea. Owen paced the parlor, not pleased that they were giving up. He hated having so little control. Even Clyde was there, having stolen inside 13 Bannerman Road upon hearing about Chelsea Hall.

"I _knew_ it!" he exclaimed for the tenth time, much to everyone's dismay.

"If you say that _one more time_," Owen threatened through clenched teeth.

The boy ignored him. "I mean, why else would they want Luke?"

"Maybe because he's smart, unlike _some_ of us," shot back Maria. She was perched on the edge of the couch, ready to jump up should anyone need anything. It wasn't right to just sit and wait while Luke was missing.

"But this happens all the time to him! We should have stopped him-"

"Clyde, as much as I appreciate your concern, Luke wanted to go to Chelsea Hall." Even though what she was saying was true, Sarah Jane couldn't help but to feel that maybe it wasn't.

"I don't think so," he cut in. ""Did he have any friends there? Maria and I have barely seen him since he started!"

The overly crowded room fell quiet. Alan watched his neighbor carefully; thankful he never had to know what it was like to lose a child.

"C-Can Torchwood help at all?" Ms. Smith asked, desperate for any assistance.

"He's not on earth. We don't know where he is—he could be anywhere. Torchwood _can't_ help," answered Owen, saying what no one else had the heart to admit. Yet venom stained his voice.

"The Rift-"

"Can't do shi-," he paused, "_stuff_, Gwen. The Rift is of no help. We would need some alien transport, and we have yet to find one. This . . .'Doctor' is the only one who can help. We are stuck. It's over." His knuckles turned white as his grip on his mug tightened. Helplessness wasn't a feeling he was used to experiencing.

Finally, Mr. Jackson spoke up, "Is there really no way you could get a hold of the Doctor?"

"Am I the only one with any brains here?" cried Clyde. "What about K9?"

Sarah Jane couldn't muster the strength to remind him that K9 was still on his mission in space.

Martha Jones had been alone for three days, and hadn't enjoyed a minute of it. Okay, so the beaches were really how the Doctor had assured her (and more—she could see through the ocean to the bottom), and the J'Pynollwians were truly the most hospitable (with numerous daily massages and lazy feasts), but how long was she expected to be idle while the Doctor was having an adventure? It didn't seem fair.

Sunning and relaxing wasn't what she had signed up for—not alone, anyway.

She sighed and started out at the tide, trying to ignore Gulack's insistent plate of bananas. One could only eat so many.

"Are you tired, Miss?" he questioned, setting down the plate.

Only from days of experience did Martha Jones know what was coming next. "No, and I don't need a massage, either. Thank you."

"But you sighed, Miss?"

His nasal voice penetrated down to her bones. "Yes! Because I'm stuck here! I'm a prisoner! And there's only so much to do here—_alone_!"

"You aren't alone, no?"

Pulling down her sunglasses, she studied the plump blue alien. He had become very attached to her, hardly ever leaving her side. And with a skipped beat of her heart, she realized she had offended him. Smiling apologetically, Martha continued. "I-I mean, with my people. I'm the only human here."

"Your Doctor friend is alien, too, yes?"

"Yeah, but he looks-," she stopped herself. "How would you like to show me around, Gulack? Show me what the tourists don't come here to see."

He glittered more than ever. "I shall show you to my home, yes?" Gulack stared, his beady eyes shining at her in the brilliant sun. The damn overgrown Smurf sure was persistent!

After Dr. Bryson left, Luke felt unnaturally sluggish. It wasn't break time for the others, but he hadn't been fully reconnected to the system yet. He could still feel the computer working at the back of his mind, like on some sort of standby mode. It was sending and receiving messages, just not employing him as it had before.

And it was even more exhausting this way—conscious but no control. Why? Why not make him work more equations, solve more puzzles, and create more unearthly music?

Without intending to, Luke's mind explored the computer, granting him full access to everything he could dream of—the internet _Encyclopedia Galactica_. It was too much for one brain to sustain, the network of various alien prodigies allowed for each to carry a piece of the weight. No one could store it all alone.

On several occasions, he had been reminded of how SETI functioned.

His mind asked questions about the Mirayn before he could think to stop it. He was curious to learn more about them, to somehow _beat_ them.

The eerily familiar voice of Dr. Bryson echoed in his head as the data consumed him: "_Since the civil war of the Mirayn, we have suffered great losses. After it had ended, most of the survivors starved to death, leaving our numbers to be under five hundred. The remaining few became desperate to keep our species alive._

_"A database of our way of life was made to preserve our knowledge, with each Mirayn sharing his memories with the computer. It quickly became the largest in the universe. With millennia of experience, we needed something stronger to power and contain the information—fresh minds._

_"As we faced extinction, we went to other worlds to collect child geniuses for the Computer._

_"And a discovery was made—we could feed upon it, connect to it. The Computer gave us longer life, enhanced our lives. It perfected us to become something greater than Gods."_

The dataflow continued, showing Luke images of slug Mirayn hatched in incubators controlled by the Computer, ancient memories of beautiful Mirayn feasting upon their own cocooned offspring to survive, the domination of other worlds for slaves and resources, the kidnapping of children like him—it was enough o make him sick. The Mirayn, timeless and forever, were bound to life by a computer run by the most prodigal minds from every world. They fed on their brain power and knowledge, relied on their imagination and youth to solve simple problems.

The Mirayn were nothing more than empty vessels.

For the briefest of moments, Luke pitied them.

That was all it took for his mind to succumb.


	11. Against All Hope

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Chapter Eleven: **Against All Hope

Hours searching, he had spent hours searching and found nothing. The Mirayn home world, while sparsely populated, was just one big machine with sensors everywhere. _Perhaps rescue missions have been tried before_.

The Doctor had to be careful with his TARDIS and sonic screwdriver. The Mirayn could detect an foreign alien technology in an instant, and he didn't doubt that they already knew he was there. _Probably under mauve alert_, he mused with a smile.

His lanky body tore through empty, labyrinthine corridors—his only companion being the mechanical whir of the planet. Right. Left. Left. Right again. Halls stretched on to forever, and the Doctor wondered what their purpose was.

He patted at his pockets, desperate for an emergency banana, courtesy of the Emperor of J'Pynollw. It gave him just what he needed to carry on—something from the missing girl's world.

_And if I'm really brilliant, I can save the other children who may be missing, too._

Left. Right .Right. Right.

_Stop._

He had been traveling in circles, he could see that now. He had been just where he needed to be all along, only know just making it to the center (after having followed the smell of alien versus the unnatural sterile and mechanical smell of Mirayn).

Like out of sync drums, the Doctor's hearts pounded roughly in his chest. What he saw changed him . . .

"No need to worry, Doctor. You have my personal guarantee that they are alive."

_That voice!_ He spun around on the spot.

"It's been a while," Dr. Bryson smiled smoothly. "And I didn't look like this, of course. I apologize for not keeping in touch. I still would like to have you, if you don't mind. While you are on in your years, there is still a sense of childish rebellion about you that would make you quite adequate for my program."

"Program?" the Timelord echoed, angry spittle speckling his lips. "You call this a program?" He gestured to the series of monitors displaying the vital signs and brain activity of each stolen child.

There were dozens—no, hundreds, almost a thousand screens. There was a Racnoss child, Nestene, Slitheen, Kroton, Silurian, Axos, and—_human_!

_Of course!_ he scolded himself for being surprised. But it still hit closer to him, as if one of _his own_ people had been taken.

"Luke Smith," read the Doctor aloud, not realizing he had done so.

"Genius boy," the Mirayn complimented. "Don't you think?" The eerily beautiful alien cocked his head to the side, his jade green eyes searching his old acquaintance.

Perhaps the Doctor looked confused, for Dr. Bryson (name unknown to the Doctor) chuckled heartlessly. "You don't know? Is what is said about you true?"

"What are you talking about?" he snarled. "And what is this program? What are you doing with these children?"

"Why, they are our way of life. We don't hurt them. They live for a very long time—their youth extended through our ingenious sciences and crafts."

Not a violent man (so much anymore), the Doctor surprised himself by grabbing the Mirayn by the lapels on his suit and bodily shoving him against the wall of monitors. The Mirayn were a strong species, and neither man doubted what would happen should Dr. Bryson tire of teasing his enemy.

"You can't save them _all_, Doctor. I doubt you can free more than one, if that. Whom will you try to save? The human boy, perhaps?"

Trembling from head to foot, he released the Mirayn. Children were connected to the planet through the giant computer, the Doctor understood that. But why? "Are you going to stop me?"

"If you manage to succeed in freeing any of my children, dead or alive, Doctor, I will not stop you. I won't have to because you will join them.

Donna Noble had left the hospital and was back at home with her mother and grandfather. Gwen and Owen, too, had left. _Probably already in Cardiff_, thought Sarah Jane. Only Alan and Maria stayed. Clyde's mother had called asking for him to come home.

The three neighbors were huddled together on the couch, all fast asleep except Ms. Smith herself. She doubted that she would be able to sleep without her son safe and with her.

"Doctor," she pleaded to no one, "please, find Luke."

As the night gave way to dawn, Sarah Jane wondered if she would ever see her son again.


	12. Sense of Self

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Chapter Twelve: **Sense of Self

He knew everything, could see everything. He wasn't just joined to the Computer, he _was_ the Computer. He was the planet. With no sense of self.

_This is what it's like to-_

_No wonder they-_

_There's an intruder here-!_

Luke's thoughts were separate, yet together. Parts of the human brain, which had never even been used before, were working in conjunction with other parts. He could consciously and coherently think an infinite number of things simultaneously. It was like having an innumerable amount of out of body experiences at once.

_Who is-?_

_Blue box-_

_The Doctor-!_

At once, as though by demand (yet he never asked anything), everything the Mirayn knew about Timelords was downloaded into his brain. In a matter of seconds, millennia of history flashed through his mind.

"Who are you here to rescue, Doctor? Why did you come here?" Dr. Bryson's words, though soft, echoed in the control room. "For whom did you come?"

The Doctor's eyes darted to the entryway to where he suspected the children were being kept. "I'm here for all of them—all of the children held prisoner."

Irritation flickered on the Mirayn's face. He suddenly didn't look very beautiful, but rather demonic and ancient. "You can't have them, Doctor. They are a part of Mirayn now. They will die if you steal them."

Knowing that what his enemy was saying must be true, he blanched. The children were connected, he would be unplugging their brain.

"Turn around and go back to Earth, Doctor. I promise to wait a century or two before finally adding you to my program."

_"Who could have done this? The Daleks?"_

_"No," a curly haired man answered gravely, looking about him with wide eyes. "I've heard stories, met one once . . ." His voice trailed. This is the work of the Mirayn." Their surroundings were dark and bare. Emaciated natives, few in numbers, lay idle on the dusty earth._

_"Who are they, Doctor?"_

_I know that voice . . ._

_"One of the universe's oldest races and most feared. They are magnificent thieves and talented artisans."_

Were_ talented artisans, _Luke corrected.

_"You sound like you revere them!"_

_"Yes, they have been helpful in the past."_

Luke realized that he had just witnessed a personal memory of a Mirayn, preserved within the databanks of the Computer. The last of them were just about to leave that world when one had overheard the conversation.

_But that woman-_

_Who is-?_

The Computer answered his questions for him.

_"Hello, again, Ms Smith."_

_"What have you done with my son? Where is Luke?"_

_Sarah Jane . . .Smith. I am Luke Smith. How could I have forgotten?_

_I am a part of the Computer! I know _everything!

_Everything . . ._

Images of his life on Earth consumed him. He was in a bathroom clothed only in a hospital gown. There was a large boy with a lot of flatulence. There was an older woman and a strange talisman. He and another boy were playing some laser game, and then they were suddenly in space. A computer had turned evil, and the fat green aliens had come for him again.

_"Luke!" A girl's face broke into a large grin._

_"Luke Smith, boy genius . . ." The boy shook his head, chuckling to himself._

_"He's my son and the smartest boy on the planet."_

"Luke! Wake up!"

The Doctor towered over the human boy, scanning him with his sonic screwdriver. Luke was different than the other children—he had control over the Computer.

"Can you hear me? Luke?"

Dr. Bryon had let him pass, telling him that once he'd enter, "You'll never leave."

_Arrogant bas-!_

Luke's eyes darkened. With what looked like great effort, he focused on the Doctor. His eyelids twitched as if trying to blink. "T-The . . .C-Com . . .puter." His voice was low and dry.

"Yes, yes, I know. You need to disconnect yourself, _will_ yourself to be free."

"I . . know," Luke swallowed hard, his eyes rolling into his skull, "_everything_."

"Stop. Stop it. Listen to me. This is what he wants. He wants you to choose the Computer, the program—whatever. Listen to me, Luke. Snap out of it!" He tapped the boy's face, forcing Luke to look at him. "He gave you power so _he_ can control _you_. The Mirayn _need_ you to submit. Remember who you are."

Fear flooded through the Timelord's veins. If he couldn't save Luke, then he had no chance of helping the others. _Or Martha!_

"I . .I am . . .Lu-" His body went rigid as if having a seizure. Then the sensor for his vital signs went blank.


	13. Wireless

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Author's Note: **This chapter is the whole reason I had started this story. This is probably my favorite. Enjoy! Also, I was unaware that FF changed their settings for formatting (?). Sorry if they are a bit messy. I will go back and fix it!

**Chapter Thirteen: **Wireless

If Luke were dead, if the boy had died—the Doctor saw no harm in freeing him from the crude metal chair and neural plugs. It took nearly ten minutes for him to do so, having to be careful not to further mar the child. When it came to the small, dime sized hole in Luke's skull, the Doctor had tugged nervously on his hair.

_It'll regrow_, he told himself. _I'll fix it. I can fix this._

Once he had managed to free Luke, who now lay in a crumpled heap on the floor, the Doctor immediately went to the next child; desperate to release the Silurian (he couldn't even begin to wonder when the Miryan could have abducted her).

It was as the Doctor stood before the girl, trying to figure out how to rescue her, too, when Dr. Bryson entered. He moved like electricity—static wrath propelling him through the large, spherical room. Before the Doctor could even register the Mirayn's sudden appearance, his body was tossed into the nearest wall. Every joint and muscle spasmed in agony.

"You killed one of my children," Dr. Bryson hissed, shooting a look of angry pity to the human boy he had taken. "I rather liked him."

"I didn't kill him," the Doctor replied from the clinically white floor, "Your program did!" His bones turned to jelly as the alien laughed. It was a cold and sinister as a Dalek's voice.

"That's not possible. The program has a failsafe, Doctor. He _couldn't_ have died from it; it protected him. He could never leave. And now, I am very pleased to say, neither will-"

"Stop! Please!" The Timelord stood up slowly on his trembling legs, but he didn't know whether they shook from fear or pain. "Just let these children go. There is another way to-to keep your history. You don't need children to be your databanks!"

"But they do so much more than that." He neared his enemy. His shiny shoes echoed with each step closer. "I have been waiting for this moment since the first time we had met. Do you remember that day?"

The power in the room flickered, yet the Mirayn still slowly and carefully advanced. He didn't stop until they were mere inches from each other. Face contorted with ominous glee, Dr. Bryson continued, "All those centuries. I was a mere _slug_ then. Oh, but how lucky I was to have met you!" He grabbed the Doctor by the neck and lifted him high off the floor. His perfectly manicured hand squeezed tight, stealing his breaths. "And yet, here we are. Here we are aga-"

The Mirayn stopped. His pale eyes bulged out of his skull as he released his hold. Lilac blood dribbled out the corner of his quivering mouth. Then he seized up, violently shaking from head to foot. White electricity sparked around him as he cooked from the inside out, his body dancing on the spot.

Massaging his neck and gasping for air, the Doctor watched helplessly, torn between aiding and being electrocuted (and later being collected), or allowing the ancient Mirayn to die. Time chose for him. In a matter of seconds, Dr. Bryson died, collapsing with a heavy thud that shook the room.

Behind where he had stood was Luke, holding the power source plug from the Silurian girl's chair. "I-I didn't mean to-" he dropped the thick cord in fear, knowing he had just taken a life. He hadn't meant to; he had only wanted to help. His knees wobbled. "I-I just . . I just wanted to-"

The Doctor tried to dismiss the fact that the girl he had been trying to release was dead. The boy had saved his life, after all. "Are you alright?" he interrupted, unable to burn the image of Dr. Bryson from his mind.

"Yeah, I think so."

The two stared at each other for a long minute, both breathing hard. Finally, the Doctor broke the silence. "Do you think you can help me free the others before we get discovered, Luke?"

If the boy wondered how this man knew his name, he didn't show it. Instead, he shook his head weakly, feeling air in his skull. "You can't. It's part of the program. They'll die."

"How did you survive?"

"I-I don't know. I can't remember." Luke swallowed hard, desperately trying to forget the horrors he had endured. Every inch of his body screamed in sharp pain. He half expected to pass out; he wished he would. Tentatively, he touched at the hole in his head.

"Don't. I'll fix it. Just," he fumbled through his transdimensional pockets, pulling out the J'Pynollwian banana he never ate. "You'll need this. Eat it."

Food. Real food. Hesitating for only a second, Luke reached for it. Then paused. "Who are you?"

"Just take it. I have to try. I-I can't leave these children here." It seemed impossible that he could even save just one.

As soon as Luke bit into the fruit, he felt as though he had been brought back to life. Strength and mental clarity returned to him, making him feel as though the past few days hadn't happened at all. His head still throbbed, but it was distant and dull. He ate hungrily, devouring the savory fruit. _Potassium_, he thought with an inner smile, _must be all the potassium_.

On the other side of the sphere was the Empress of J'Pynollw. Her once blue body was a sickly green-gray. She wouldn't survive being disconnected. _This was his entire plan. Even Luke_.

"What I need," the Doctor said to himself, "is more time. Luke!"

"Yes?"

"Take this and deadlock the door!" He tossed his sonic screwdriver to the boy, whom had followed him to the other child. "We can't let the Mirayn get in here. Not while we can still do something."

"But then how will we get out?"

"Go! Setting 14b!"

"Right." After having caught the strange tool, Luke approached the door and did as told. "Wait a minute . . .you have a sonic screwdriver!" He turned around to face his rescuer, whom had pulled out his specs and was examining the chair unit. "Why a screwdriver?"

"Oi, I'll have you know that it does a lot more than put up shelves in jiffy!" The question irked him, yet it reminded him of Captain Jack. His stomach gave a guilty lurch. "Come on, Luke. Help me think."

"But if you have a sonic screwdriver, then you must be-" Luke stopped, furiously studying the strange man before him. "You're the Doctor!"

"Yes, nice to meet you!" He waved dismissively and continued poking about. After a few minutes, the Doctor stopped and turned around, looking at Luke as though for the first time. "Who are you, then? Knowing all about me." His hand was extended, reaching out for his screwdriver. "Unless you don't and the computer told you?"

Perhaps it was from all the horrible things that had happened, but Luke was finding it hard to believe that the skinny, pinstripe suit clad man was The Doctor. He recalled something Clyde had once said about meeting you're heroes. "No, I'm Luke. Luke Smith." He returned the device.

"Luke Smith, Luke Smith," echoed the Doctor, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nope, doesn't ring a bell. Although, mind you, Smith is a very common last name—had two Smith companions once! And you don't look familiar, either. But your smell . . .you don't exactly smell fully human, do you?"

The accusation caught him off guard. Weren't they supposed to be escaping? Or trying to rescue the others at the very least? "What?" He sniffed himself curiously. "I am human!"

"Didn't say you weren't, Luke Smith. You just have this strange odor—bit clinical, very alien. I'd say Bane, but you don't have that cephalopod-goo smell. Unless it _is_ Bane and you're something new." He raised his eyebrows at the boy, pocketing his glasses.

"Which," carried on the Doctor, "has me even more curious as to how you know of me. Does the alien bit of you know? Or did you learn about me from someone else? The computer?" He had gone back to studying the Empress, testing things with his screwdriver.

"No, not the computer. I mean," Luke paused, sensing the Doctor's disbelief. "I knew of you before. You know my mum."

"Your mum?" At that, the Doctor visibly flinched. "Every encounter I have with someone's mum results in me being slapped." He squinted at Luke. "You're what, 14? Born in 1994 to a mid-twenty year old? Ace? Is Ace your mum? No, you look nothing like her. Surely not Nyssa—she would have been at least 40! Grace? Can't be, I met her in '96 and she had no kids then. Smith, Smith . . married to someone named Smith, an _alien_ Smith."

Despite the pressing situation at hand, Luke could only stare, mouth agape, at the Doctor. He was shocked at how out of touch with humanity the Timelord was, even though he had spent the better half of his life traveling with them. "People aren't always married when they have children, Doctor. My mum isn't; she adopted me."

"Well, that explains why you don't look familiar. Ah ha!" The Doctor seemed to have found what he had been searching for and continued working hard as he spoke, his sonic screwdriver buzzing. "I identified that clinical alien scent—_feed_. Rather pungent, the Mirayn probably knew right away. Speaking of which, do you hab a berry buddon?"

"What? Sorry, you have-"

The Doctor spat out a wire he had been holding between his teeth. "Do you have a belly button?"

"No."

"Thought so. Okay, Luke the Bellybuttonless Boy, help me lift the Empress out the chair without disconnecting her."

They worked together, pulling the squat, heavy girl up and laying her gently on the floor. The Doctor sonicked the metal threads and removed all but tiny slivers from each wire in her brain. "Finally, wireless."

"Are you going to do this for everyone?"

"No time. There is no telling what awaits us on the other side of that door, Luke. I can't," he gulped. "Two is better than none. I can make known what has been happening here and come back—I _have_ to-"

"But you have a time machine!" Luke couldn't leave the Sphere, as he called it, knowing that the others must continue to suffer (and maybe perish under Mirayn wrath) while he was free and barely scathed.

"Yes, and it will do us no good if the Mirayn get their hands on it." The Doctor glanced at the paling J'Pynollwian. "We don't have much time. We need a diversion to escape. They probably have us on mauve alert."

"Don't you mean _red alert_?"

"No, no. That's only in _Star Trek_. Come on, think! You're supposed to be a genius! What can we use to distract them?"

"Well, we could aways do what my mum does," offered Luke.

"And just who is your mum?"

"You're former companion—Sarah Jane Smith."

_I did not like how Luke and the Doctor had interacted the two times they have met. Luke is, in my opinion, like the Doctor—just a child version. So, I wanted to make their initial meeting more memorable for both of them—Luke in dumb shock that his hero is a fumbling and easily distracted mad man, and the Doctor, well, you'll see!_

_~ann no aku_


	14. Electric Feel

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Author's Note:** While writing this, I imagined that this could possibly be what it'd be like for Harry Potter to meet his father. Also, in classic Who, the Doctor (at least, 4) would call Sarah Jane just Sarah. So, I'm keeping with that in this story.

**Chapter Fourteen: ** Electric Feel

"And just who is your mum?" the Doctor exclaimed defeatedly.

"Your former companion—Sarah Jane Smith."

The Doctor nodded, obviously in numb shock. "Right. An-and you were grown? By the Bane-minus-the-cephalopod-goo-smell? And you don't have a belly button?" He tugged on his hair, looking quite mad.

"Yes, but shouldn't we-?"

"Okay. Prove it."

"What?" choked Luke, not sure he had heard correctly. "Prove what?"

"No, no. You're right! No time. We'll check later." He stared curiously at the boy. "What'd you say Sarah would do in this situation?"

It took a moment for Luke to think, wanting to correct the Doctor that his mother preferred to be called Sarah Jane. Tossing the banana peel to the floor, his fingers sticky with fruit bits, he answered, "Act like you belong".

"She got that from me, you know. Not _me_, but six me's ago."

"My mum was a journalist before she met you, I'm sure she-" Loud banging at the solitary exit snapped both of them back to reality.

Human eyes met alien. The two broke into eager, nervous grins. "Help the Empress up, Luke. Can you, er, carry her?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Brilliant. Okay, here's the plan—I'm a Mirayn, you're . . you. I'm moving you because the real me has started unplugging you. Got it?"

"Do you think it will work, Doctor?"

"Not at all, but it's all we have, isn't it? We're going to do this Sarah and Luke Smith style. Ready?"

He nodded, half wishing he were wearing something more covering than a paper thin (and backless) hospital gown. Luke silently hoped it wouldn't slip off while dragging the heavy, large alien girl.

"Good. Well, here's to hope!"

"I want to see it!" shouted the Doctor as he and Luke carried the Empress through the winding halls.

"What?" He was more fatigued than he had thought, and tried in vain to keep the newly acquired slit in his attire from expanding. The run-in with the Mirayn at the door hadn't been too bad. The slug forms were slow moving and (since there was still some prejudice between the two forms), they were unaware of the Doctor's real identity. At least, until, they had bolted at the first sign of an all-clear.

"You're non-bellybutton!"

The sonic screwdriver buzzed as it lowered a set of doors from the ceiling and deadlocked them.

"Doctor, I really don't think now is the time," he gasped.

"Why not? We have a moment. The TARDIS is just a couple of meters down the hall."

Luke forced a weak smile. The Empress was extremely heavy and she weighed far too much for him to half drag her much longer. His entire body felt like lead, and his heart seemed to get slower with each sluggish step he made. Memories of Dr. Bryson whirled around in his brain so roughly that part of him could almost appreciate the Doctor's obsession with his bellybutton. "Can't it wait?"

"I've seen so many things, most you'd never believe. But I've _never_ seen a bellybuttonless boy. Kyle XY doesn't count." The Doctor shot him a sideways look, not missing his companion's slowing breaths. He grabbed the Empress's other arm, immediately faltering in step.

"Er, right. Let's keep moving, Doctor." _Anything to leave this place. Let me forget all about Dr. Bryson. That alien I had . . ._

"Yeah, we could," the Timelord agreed with a frown, now dragging Luke along with the girl. "But frankly, it'll be hard to concentrate thinking 'bout you not having a bellybutton—being bellybuttonless."

"Doctor, do _you_ have a bellybutton?"

"Course not!" He looked repulsed at the idea. My people don't—_didn't_ reproduce the way you lot—you bellybutton-a-plenty lot—do. Don't know 'bout you, though." He rifled through his pockets with his free hand, feeling around for his key. "You with that sour cephalopod-"

"-goo smell, I know," finished Luke tiredly, leaning on the door's of the ship. "I don't have a smell. At least, not to humans."

"No, not 'goo'. I said you _don't_ have the cephalopod goo smell. You have the cephalopod _feed_ smell. It's a bit like . . .sour milk and vinegar with a smidgeon of Slitheen gas from the gas exchange. You really can't smell it?" The Doctor made a disgusted face as he slipped the key in the look, his eyes never leaving Luke.

Even though he was the most exhausted he had ever been in his life and pain tore through him, Luke couldn't help but to reply. "I smell like a _Slitheen_?"

"Only a little. It's not that bad, really. Have you faced them before?"

The boy nodded then followed the Doctor inside, leaving the engines as the Doctor checked his ship. At once, his jaw dropped open.

"If you ever go to Raxicoricofallapatorius, they just might be dumb enough to think you're in a skin suit. Except, well, you're a bit on the skinny side, aren't you?"

Swallowing, Luke replied, "They have thin suits now. And the gas exchange has improved."

"Really? So, they don't," he paused, looking uncomfortable. "The Slitheen have, er . ."

"Yeah, they don't far so much anymore." His knees finally gave way and he fell onto the metal grate floor.

The Doctor shuddered, and apparently satisfied with his reading, picked up the sickly Empress and motioned for Luke to follow him. "Bit crude, aren't they? Poisoning Earth's atmosphere with their gas. I remember when they were in Downing Street—thought I'd never get that stench out my leather coat."

They made it to some sort of medical room. Luke thought he must've looked relieved (and perhaps better) for the Doctor loudly clapped his hands together. "So, about that lack of a bellybutton."

Exhaling deeply, Luke looked up from his spot on a cot to the manic man. "If I show you, will you stop bringing it up?"

"No, but I promise never to ask to see it again for the first time. And I always keep my promises. Try to. Usually."

It didn't take long for the Mirayn to find the Doctor. They were just outside his ship, quickly losing their patience while waiting for him to make the next move. But he couldn't. The Empress was still connected, albeit wirelessly, to the planet and would die should she leave.

After begrudgingly uncovering the tear in his hospital-like gown, Luke revealed his abdomen to the Doctor's delight. Then he turned a gray-green and passed out. This is what he seemed to have been waiting for. Working quickly, the Doctor attached an IV unit to the J'Pynollwian and began regrowing the missing part of Luke's skull.

It was as he was attempting to fashion a device to help the Empress when the Mirayn's patience broke. The TARDIS gave a jolt, as though the bulky, strong Mirayn I were rocking it. Medial instruments fell to the floor with loud metallic pings. The Doctor didn't doubt that the ancient and genius Mirayn could find a way to either break into his sip or blow it to bits without even batting a perfect eyelash.

"Come on, please work." He sonicked a small computer chip he had removed from his pocket. It smoked ominously before the Doctor carefully inserted it into the girl's brain.

Her eyes flashed open, moving rapidly back and forth as if dreaming.

"No time to test it." He left the pair in the room before running out and racing to the ship's controls. The TARDIS shook harder than ever, sending him to the floor. Sparks flew as what felt like a battering ram continued to smash into the ship.

_BANG! BANG!_

A hot wave of heat consumed the Doctor as a fire broke out. Hungry flames licked the air. When he struggled to his feet, a large shadow crossed over him. Bare grayish-blue toes filled his sight.

The Empress had woken.

As though in a trance, she expertly controlled the TARDIS, swiftly murmuring commands aloud. The ship still teetered, but the squat girl stood her ground, her dense weight serving as an anchor.

The Doctor could only watch as she moved quickly about, not realizing what the Empress was doing until it was too late. "No! Stop! You can't!" He was half bent over the leather seat in the engine room, still battling to for balance.

She ignored him, unable to hear his pleas. Her eyes still flew form side to side and the Doctor knew that she wasn't herself, but rather under control from a computer. _But which one?_ He thought, recalling the chip he had placed in her brain. Was the one he had inserted attacking the Mirayn?

His hearts stopped. The TARDIS gave one last jolt before spinning through the time vortex. Finding his feet (and voice), the Doctor rounded on the Empress, desperate to bring her back. Or had she been a part of the computer so long that she no longer had any self?

"What did you do?" he demanded, grabbing the girl by the shoulders. "Did you kill them? Are they dead?"

Her black eyes stopped moving. She stayed resolutely still—the same position she had been in since leaving the Mirayn homeworld.

Then she blinked, her eyes glittering with life. Though she was in no better condition than before, her skin managed to blush to a pale blue. "Doctor," she whispered in a dry voice. "Doctor . . ." She collapsed heavily right at his trainers.

He could only stare at the girl, too horrified and disgusted to move for several minutes. The Empress didn't need to tell him what she had done—the Doctor knew.

No matter how horrible being a slave on Mirayn might have been, no matter how much painless physical suffering (yet traumatic mental suffering) she had endured, _nothing_ constituted 'freeing' the other children. But at the same time, the Doctor couldn't help but to wonder if it had been his fault—in saving the Empress and making her a part computer with the chip in her brain, had he enabled and allowed the tragedy to happen?

Feeling sick himself, the Doctor managed the controls, eager to return the Empress and rescue Martha. He couldn't even entertain the thought of an all-you-can-eat banana buffet.


	15. Home

**Lost in the Hum of Night**

**ann no aku**

**Author's Note:** I apologize for the lack of updates. This is the final chapter with the possibility of an alternate ending. It's a bit rushed, sorry!

**Chapter Fifteen: ** Home

_A man in a pinstripe suit was cowering by a wall as a large form towered over him._

_ Something in Luke's mind registered—the bigger one was the enemy; he was going to kill the other. Dr. Bryson was going to—_

_ Luke forced himself up, every muscle screamed in agony. He made his way carefully to the men, not making a sound. His fingers grabbed at the nearest wire he could reach, instantly releasing an alien child from the Program as the computer shut off._

_ His entire body trembled with trepidation, but something inside him seemed to propel his arm forward. He lunged, shoving the plug into the Mirayn. Electricity coursed through the wire; Luke could feel the power._

_ And it frightened him._

_ He killed._

No! NO!

With a jolt, Luke's eyes flashed open,, staring blankly at an unfamiliar ceiling. He felt heavy and his head sore, as though someone had hit him repeatedly with a hammer. Without meaning to, without even realizing until he felt them stream down his face, Luke cried, shaking with the weight of everything that had happened to him. He curled into a tight ball, wishing the memories away. Images of his imprisonment tore through him—his inability to speak and blink, the dull sensation of the plugs in his brain, and the Connection.

The Doctor watched silently from the doorway, praying he could offer comfort to the boy. But he had no idea how. All he could do was stand by and pity him. With both being so extraordinary, they were hunted. He knew it all too well.

His eyes found the Empress—unconscious and laying on a cot next to Luke. Her skin was its normal blue; she was the only one seemingly unaffected. The girl's protruding belly rose with each intake of breath as if she were tasting the air. How was it that the Empress, the one who killed all the remaining children, was able to rest? Was permitted to endure no suffering?

"Mum," sobbed Luke, his body convulsing with each hiccough. "Mum, please. Please." He didn't know why he was begging; all he knew was that he wanted to be home.

Somewhere deep in her sleep, the Empress reached out and searched for Luke's hand. Upon grabbing his, Luke instant relaxed, sharing in the comfort of the J'Pynllowian.

There was a small argument half a day later when the TARDIS materialized on J'Pynllow (after much needed repairs). Luke, who was still in quite a lot of pain (both physical and mental, the Doctor had noted), was upset when the Doctor told him-

"You're staying here."

"Here? But . .where are we?" He had donned some of Adric's old clothes, proffered by the Doctor. "Are we on an alien planet? Can I go, too?" Gingerly, he slid off the bed, wincing slightly. He needed a distraction, anything to not think.

"No, you're staying here."

But Luke gave a mutinous and stubborn look so reminiscent of Sarah Jane, that the Doctor grudgingly caved. "Fine, but if you get hurt-!"

"I think it's too late for that," he mumbled. "I'll be careful. I promise. I do this stuff with my mum all the time."

"You're still too-" What word did he want to use? Fragile?

"My mum would _kill_ me if I didn't go out and see this planet when I got the chance!"

The Doctor grinned. "Strong woman, you're mother. Bit scary at times, but I kept her in line."

Luke stared at him in disbelief.

"Well, come on then, Lukey-boy!"

With the radiantly blue round Empress leading the way, they exited the ship, where they were immediately shot with the tranquilizer darts. When they came to hours later, the Empress no longer with them, the Emperor offered no apology or thanks—only bananas and Martha Jones.

"Thank God you're here," she blurted, punching the Doctor in the arm when he neared her. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm sick of relaxing. My whole body feels like banana jelly!" She found Luke huddled in the corner of the small cell. "Who's he?"

"Martha Jones, meet Luke Smith. Luke Smith, Martha Jones," he introduced, nursing his rapidly forming bruise. "Now, Emperor, could you let us out? I returned your daughter. Was it really necessary to imprison me? Again, I might add."

"I had to make sure, Doctor," he wheezed, "that the Mirayn haven't gotten to you." His tone was harsh, but the blue aura he was emitting gave way to his real feelings. "You and your companions are free to leave. We must work hard to reopen our planet."

A guard unlocked the cell, releasing the prisoners. The Doctor stuffed as many bananas he could in his transdimensional pockets (leaving only one behind that he vowed to collect later, for Martha was growing impatient) and tore out, running back to the TARDIS with an exhausted Luke in tow.

"Ready to go home, Luke?" the Doctor asked once in the ship.

Weakly, the boy nodded, still in awe over the vessel.

"Would you like to help?"

Martha lead him and showed Luke how to man the controls. "Just hold on tight and do the opposite of whatever he says."

"Oi!" he shouted. "What's the address?"

"13 Bannerman Road, Ealing."

The ship spun wildly through the time vortex. Luke picked himself up off the floor no less than three times, rubbing at his sore tailbone. "Is he always like this?" he groaned.

"Worse."

"Ah, made it safe and sound," announced the Doctor once they stopped. "It'll be like you never left! Beauty of a time machine, yeah? Eh?"

Luke thought he sounded overly pleased with himself, but it was Martha who vociferated his biggest fear. "If you traveled through time the way you pilot this thing, he's probably been gone for ages!"

"Now, Martha," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "That only happened once . . .recently."

"What?" exclaimed Luke. He had told the Doctor the day he had disappeared, but now he wondered if he should have said an earlier date.

"It wasn't a big deal—so her boyfriend was called into questioning and her mother had put up missing posters then called the police on me (after slapping me, too—quite hard, actually)-"

"You probably deserved it!" Martha scoffed. "How long was she gone for?"

"-really only supposed to be twelve hours," he continued, not listening to Martha.

"Doctor, how long?"

"Oh, about . . .twelve months," he answered, looking as though he smelled Slitheen gas.

"A year?" the companions exclaimed together.

"Think about it! When it's her fortieth birthday, she'll _really_ only be thirty-nine! Besides, Rose didn't mind. She still traveled with me, didn't she?"

Martha snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "Let's just hope you got it right this time, or you can go back and do it again. Then _keep_ doing it until you get it right!" She chose to ignore his mumble about crossing one's own timeline.

A loud banging at the doors snapped the group back to the present. "Doctor! Doctor, open up! It's me, Sarah Jane!"

"Mum! It's my mum!"

"You know-?" began Martha, her eyebrows raised.

"Doctor, please! My son, he's missing! I need your help!" She continued to pound on the ship, her sobs echoing through the halls.

"Luke?" the Doctor gestured to the exit.

Despite still being in pain and thoroughly exhausted, he ran. The TARDIS, sensing his desire to his mother, flew the doors open before he could even reach them. Bright sunlight poured into the ship, and Luke threw himself into his mother's arms.

"Luke! Oh, Luke!" She sobbed into his hair. "I thought I had lost you!"

"The Doctor found me, mum!"

"Hello again, Sarah Jane."

"Doctor, thank you." Tugging on his brown coat, she pulled him into the hug.

"H-He wasn't gone _too_ long, was he?" came a muffled question from somewhere in the embrace.

"Only two weeks too long," she replied, choking on her words. She saw Martha standing apprehensively by the entrance. "Oh, come here. Any companion of the Doctor deserves thanks."

Smiling broadly, Martha joined the throng.

"You know, back when I had traveled with him, the Doctor had maybe two or three companions at once! Is it just one again, Miss-?"

"Martha Jones," she answered, pulling back. "So, with all those companions, did he still talk to himself and fly the TARDIS like a nutter?"

"Ladies-!"

"Well, I see nothing's changed! When he dropped me of, I was in Aberdeen!"

"I thought you lived in Crowden," Luke said, frowning.

"Exactly! Now come inside for some tea and tell me all about your adventures."

The End!


End file.
